


I am no bird

by hobbeshalftail3469



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: AU, All your historical costume dramas in one place!, Cormoran is artistic, Did I mention that Matthew is a rotter and a cad?, F/M, Matthew de Cunliffe is as much of a scoundrel as ever, Matthew gets punched, Proposals, Shanker gets shot, Shanker is an angry badger, Some historical accuracy - but mostly the frocks!, Strike set in the regency times, Venetia giving as good as she gets to teh attacker! Go venetia!, Venetia has a very good think in bed!, Venetia is still sassy - and still called Robin - we shall find out why, an attack in broad daylight, pistol lessons, references to the likes of Jane Eyre - Pride and Prejudice - Sense and Sensibility etc, shooting some birds, the Colonel to the rescue, the Ellacott men are Team Colonel!, this is so much fun!, unwanted sexual attention (mentioned but not in detail)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-02 06:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 70,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17258957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/pseuds/hobbeshalftail3469
Summary: So, my wonderful fellow Fanfic writer, LulaIsAKitten created a fabulous series which I think anyone with taste knows, called First Kisses. One of the prompts she received as from Lucinda who asked whether she could create one in an AU, set in Pride and Prejudice times.Lula thought it was right up my street as I love a bit of historical fluff so New year, new story ......it will not however be a First Kisses 2000 worder......so settle in for a slow burner.I have started as a 'G', but I am sure in time I shall change to an 'M', maybe even an 'E' for a couple of chapters....we shall see!I have done a little historical research, some of the events referred to will be accurate, but I am not claiming you won't find faults - there may be multiple.I have also stolen from JK in this opening chapter - I have used a couple of phrases from Cuckoo as a way of setting their meeting in some kind of 'Strike' canon!As it goes on please join in playing 'Spot the reference from a costume drama' as I shall be liberally sprinkling them throughout....if you have a favourite moment you'd like including somewhere please comment and I shall endeavour to accommodate it!Most importantly, ENJOY!





	1. My apologies Madam, I did not see you.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LulaIsAKitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/gifts), [Lucinda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucinda/gifts).



> Please note, the alternative title considered was Strike and Strikeability !!!!!!  
> This is a romp!

The beautiful and spirited Miss Venetia Ellacott tripped briskly up the staircase, her dainty feet skimming the marble steps lightly as she tried to locate her friend, the recently married Mrs Ilsa Herbert.  
She was excited to relate the image she had just witnessed; the elegant Lady Charlotte Campbell making a haughty and rapid departure from the tea rooms looking unusually flustered, upset and angry.

Venetia’s gown of pale peach cotton flashed between the deep centre opening in the beige - coloured, puff sleeved pelisse, buttoned up to her slender neck.  
Her neat bonnet was held in place by a tidy bow of apricot sateen, which somehow accentuated her elfin like chin and rosey, pouting lips.

At the top of the staircase she glanced to her right, scanning the tables and felt a massive weight knock the air from her lungs and her feet from beneath her.

Sixteen unseeing stone of bristling masculinity slammed into her.  
Miss Ellacott was catapulted backwards, gloves flying, arms windmilling towards the edge of the staircase.

Colonel Strike reacted instinctively upon hearing the high pitched scream.  
He threw out a long arm and seized a handful of fabric and flesh resulting in a second squeal, but he succeeded in preventing the female from plummeting down the staircase.  
The noise and consequent scuffle caused a deal of attention and open mouthed gasps as the Colonel grasped the female firmly by the upper arm and steered her towards an upholstered bench.

“Sit down here,” his deep, rumbling baritone instructed. He winced slightly as he crouched before her, his right leg slightly thrown out at an awkward angle. “My apologies Madam, I did not see you.”

The feel of his strong fingers lingered on her slender, upper arm and she scanned his features as he uncomfortably avoided her face.

Dark, somewhat unruly curls adorned an angular, almost swarthy face. His hooded, green eyes sparkled beneath a serious looking brow and his moustache and beard concealed a slightly irregular top lip which curled his mouth into a seductive sneer.

“Are you alright Madam?” he asked, addressing her bonnet after flashing a cursory glance across her features, memorising her blue-grey eyes, rosebud lips and the honey-gold hair visible below the pale ribbons of her bonnet.

She was attractive.  
The practical side to his personality made him recognise and accept this as a piece of merely factual information to be stored away.

“I’m a little startled, Sir. But I believe your actions may have prevented a greater incident,” and she flexed her shoulder slightly within her coat releasing a waft of an intoxicating aroma of roses, lavender and jasmine which his olfactory senses stored away.

“If you will assure me you are quite well I should leave you, Madam. I would not wish to risk your reputation any further, and please excuse my presumption in handling you in such an unorthodox manner,” he rose from his position as a tall, fair haired woman approached them with a look of concern on her face.

“My dear! What has occurred? Are you quite well? Did you feel faint?” Ilsa Herbert swooped upon her friend and clasped her ungloved hand to her friend’s brow, noticing the flush to her cheeks and the tall strange man who was hovering.  
“Sir, I am grateful to you for your assistance,” Ilsa addressed the gentleman.  
“Then I shall take my leave ladies,” he offered a sincere, curt bow to each of them before turning and striding away; a visible limp evident to his gait but not distracting from his overall erect and purposeful movement.

The flushed Miss Ellacott observed the broadness of his shoulders, accentuated by the military epaulettes and scarlet coat.  
His black trousers fell crisply skimming muscular thighs and covering the black boots which clipped in an irregular fashion on the marble stair treads.

“Venetia? Venetia? My dear, whatever happened? Who was that man?” Ilsa’s voice brought her back from her momentry lapse in self control.  
“I have no idea……but he’s awfully rude. He virtually flung me down the staircase in his haste and then……Ilsa, he grasped me in full view of everyone and forced me to sit here! What will people think?” she whispered the final statement in hushed tones.  
“Well…..he did seem quite sincere about your welfare…..and he’s fearfully handsome……and tall!” Ilsa giggled, her eyebrows raised.  
“Ilsa! You are a now happily married woman!” Venetia chastised her friend. “Although, he was incredibly tall…..and his hand was very powerful….” She drifted slightly, pursing her lips with the memory of those green eyes beneath dark, scrutinous brows.

“Well, as long as you are recovered, shall we have tea?” Ilsa rose and indicated the vacant table where she had left her gloves and which was set out for tea.  
Miss Ellacott rose and followed her friend, ignoring some of the furtive glances she naturally received after such a visible and unguarded interaction with a strange, handsome gentleman.  
She, however, walked with her head held high and a confident stride which set her apart from many young ladies. 

“I must tell you about who I saw as I came in…..Lady Charlotte Campbell…..and she looked rather flustered!” and several hours of tea, muffins, cake and gossip ensued.

All thoughts of the handsome, military man with the limp were forgotten…….or just unspoken.


	2. I'm too late, Shanker.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically Colonel Strike's back story - how he came to be close to Lady Charlotte Campbell; how he came to be in London; his childhood; military and why he limps.  
> Our friend Shanker is also introduced.

Colonel Strike felt the now familiar twinge to his right leg as he descended the staircase, wishing to leave the scene of his humiliation as soon as possible.  
The fact that he had almost obliterated that attractive young lady at the head of the staircase had interrupted his intent, but now he wanted nothing more than to escape from others’ company and consider the news which had been foisted upon him.

Having met Lady Charlotte Campbell some 16 years earlier, quite by chance, he had been involved in an amorous, almost clandestine relationship with her since.  
They had brief, passionate meetings followed by extended periods of separation, which made the moments of togetherness over the years all the more charged and meaningful…..at least to him.

His injury at the Battle of Nivelle late in the previous year had put paid to his flourishing military career, but he had inherited a now profitable mine in Cornwall from his recently departed Uncle and had rented a property in town for the Season.  
He’d been intending to propose to Charlotte, but she had pre-empted him and asked for the meeting at the tea rooms where she had proceeded to tell him of her engagement to Baron Jago Ross, some titled, chinless, Scottish fellow who she’d known for all of 3 months.

He’d endured months and in some cases years of chastity; living for those brief moments of bliss in her arms.  
And now he’d lost her….just as he was in a position to surround her with the kind of life she deserved and needed.

He reached the pavement and hailed a carriage to transport him back to his temporary abode.  
Ignoring the protocol of waiting for his housekeeper, he threw open the door himself and gritted his teeth before ascending the stairs to his personal rooms.  
His valet was already there, sorting out his clothes for this evening, and regarded his stern expression with surprise as his master went directly to the tray, despite the hour, and poured whisky into a glass.

“She said yes then?” the gruff, East London accent mocked him.  
“Be quiet Shanker, I should think it’s perfectly obvious that the opposite occurred. And now I’d like to drink. What are you doing anyway?” came his abrupt, clipped voice, as he downed and refilled the glass in his hand.  
“I’m getting’ your clobber sorted out for that posh do later on. It’s the Season ain’t it? You’ve gotta go to posh parties and shit…..’specially now that your rich bit of totty won’t marry ya!” the uncouth man who served as Colonel Strike’s valet explained.

His master met his amused grin with a snarling glare.  
He wasn’t in the mood for the man’s brutal honesty; although it was as a general rule his redeeming feature – that and the fact that the man had undoubtedly saved his life.  
His crushed right leg had been a small price to pay for his life, and Corporal Shanker had risked his own to drag the bloodied body of his Colonel from the battlefield.

The Colonel sighed deeply, downing more whisky and regarding the outfit Shanker was brushing down.  
“She’s engaged to some Scottish Baron. I’m too late,” he absently dangled the empty glass from his fingers and puffed out his cheeks. “Where have I agreed to go this evening wearing that?” he indicated the smart, black frock coat and white cravat.  
“Some posh fella, you knew 'im at Oxford, got married. Havin’ a do now they’re back from honeymoon. But YOU, you need to be seen, can't let that woman shove you back into isolation!” Shanker continued seeking a crisp white shirt from a cabinet and picking up a pair of smart, black shoes which caused the Colonel to wince.  
“Can’t I wear my boots?” the ‘a’ of the first word portraying his Cornish childhood, despite a year at Oxford. “They’re more supportive of my leg,” he pushed himself from the chair and returned once more to the whisky decanter on the tray.

“No! White tie, you need shoes, Sir. You’re already open to all manner of comments based on your dodgy parentage!” Shanker flashed his teeth, but not so much in a smile as a snark.

Colonel Cormoran Strike was the illegitimate son of Lord St John Rokeby, a well known bounder and all round cad – he wasn’t his only sired brat, but he was the first and eldest.  
His father had been the one to organise the Oxford place for him, but Cormoran’s mother’s death from tuberculosis had put paid to the education after only a year.  
He’d fled to the army to escape from it all, meeting Lady Charlotte Campbell on the boat trip to Spain, where he had managed to catch her eyes on him on several occasions.

Upon docking in Cadiz she had sent word to his quarters by a maid and they had met at midnight and kissed for the first time.  
He’d kissed village girls in Cornwall and a few at Oxford, but this woman’s fire and passion floored him…..and it had done every subsequent time he had embraced her.  
But he’d been stationed far from her.  
She’d written, and so had he – pouring out romantic verses and poetic ramblings on their love for each other.  
Yet by day he was a fearsome and skilled soldier.  
His bravery and quick thinking had saved the lives of many in a number of skirmishes, and he had quickly moved up the ranks, the period of 2 years service required before becoming an officer was waived due to his time at Oxford, but he had taken the required years to move up to his position of Colonel, and was only a year away from being considered for the posting of Brigadier when the battle at Nivelle had ended his career.  
Fortunately the battle had been a success and he’d returned a hero, despite a leg injury which would cause him to walk with a cane (only for prolonged distances and when it was cold) and end his soldiering campaign.

He’d wished to return to Cornwall to live with his uncle and aunt who helped raise him, but his uncle had been ill upon his return, and passed away some 3 months ago.  
The foreman was more than capable of running the mine, which had struck silver after years of finding tin.  
His aunt had expressed a desire to remain in Cornwall, in the relatively comfortable cottage she had lived her entire life, and Cormoran had remained there for the 7 months of his recovery, but he needed excitement and felt idle there.

His decision to rent a property in London had been based on his decision to ask Charlotte to marry him – he considered that his military career might have cancelled out any questions regarding his parentage, and he had a little money now, certainly enough to afford to keep a wife in relative comfort.  
Now what did he have ahead of him?

A month or two of solid parties and evenings spent in the company of people who neither amused nor entertained him, and who would no doubt make his father the subject of crude comments and jokes......or solitude and a life of idleness opening up into a barren future?

“White tie you say? So at least there won’t be dancing!” Colonel Strike grumbled before heading to his library.  
The books in his rented property were his release; his solitude and therapy.

“I’ll ‘ave Cook send you in a tray shall I? Plenty of shortbread?” Shanker suggested to his master’s broad back, receiving a grunt which he recognised as acceptance in reply.  
“Right…..let’s get you shined up propa’” he said to the dress shoes and took them with him to the butler’s pantry below stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The party is coming next with lots of posh frocks and smouldering across the room!


	3. My little Robin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little of Venetia's back story...plus her family nickname is revealed - one we are all familiar with!  
> Description of her party frock.  
> Colonel Strike catches a glimpse of her and is impressed by a specific part of her anatomy!

Nicholas Herbert and his wife Ilsa were receiving the guests at his parent’s large house in London. A seemingly endless stream of London’s society poured in; white gowns, ostrich plumes, black frock coats and gloved hands bobbed and waved their way into the rooms set aside for the entertainment.

They had returned from a honeymoon in Italy and were stopping over in the London home prior to journeying up to Yorkshire where Nicholas had secured a position in one of his father’s banks. They would live in a modest manor house which suited Ilsa very well.  
The added bonus being that their new home was near to Bradford, meaning she was closer to Venetia, for at the end of this season she had been called back to her home in Keighley. Her mother had apparently said she could do without her for longer….but allegedly her father couldn’t and after almost 2 years in London staying with the parents of her eldest brother’s wife, “And no ruddy husband to show for it!” –the daily retort from her father when his daughter’s position was discussed – she was bidden back to Yorkshire.

“Your father wants his little Robin to return,” had been the final sentence on her most recent communication from her mother.  
The use of her family nickname made her wistful – her father had christened her with the name Robin after watching her tenacity and perseverance when she began horse riding at the age of 5.  
She showed such determination to mount her pony, Angus, by herself; then to control him into a trot; then a canter; then to tackle jumps, always with a sense that she’d pop back up after any tumble in a predictable manner, with a joyful rosy blush to her cheeks, reminiscent of a robin’s red breast.  
“My little Robin!” had been her father’s name for her from that point, and it had stuck – most of her family referred to her using the name, and she frequently had to jolt herself into recognition when she was referred to as Venetia.

Much as she loved her home, and her family, she had grown to enjoy the amusement, wealth of culture and vivacity of life in London, despite her initial shyness.

Venetia was well read, indulged by a father who adored her, and knew her own mind….and frequently spoke it.  
Having grown up in a successful industrial family, with 2 older brothers, she was well used to taking part in meaty dinner time discussions; and her father rarely stood on ceremony, meaning that the cigars, port and dialogue usually took place with the females still seated around the table.  
This could have been a factor in the whole lack of husband issue– she’d been asked; several times….but she’d refused them all (the dull one, the ugly one and the dreary one!) She was determined that none but the deepest love would induce her to marriage.

However, she was currently being pursued by an incredibly eligible and handsome young gentleman who came to call several times a week and had danced with her at several gatherings….and whom she hadn’t as yet found fault with.

He was called Matthew de Cunliffe and was destined to be a member of Parliament, which Venetia thought terribly exciting – to be able to have direct control over laws and policies was something she, as a female, could not hope to achieve, but she could marry a man who could!

He had been invited to the Herberts’ party, and Venetia had taken extra care with her appearance.  
Her gown was of finest – meaning thinnest – quality lawn, with cutwork over-sleeves.  
The high waistline accentuated her generous bust; her best feature according to most of her suitors; and the small frills of palest green silk were much needed to prevent the creamy mounds of her breasts appearing too much on display.  
Miniscule pleats of the white fabric covered the short bodice and back panels and a long tie in the same pale eau de nil shade trailed the eye line down the fluid, considerable length of the plain gown at the front, and a trio of tiny jade green buttons captured interest at the small v at the back of the bodice.  
Her honey-gold hair; her best feature according to her mother; was arranged into a pleasing collection of plaits and ringlets, interwoven with small, jade hair pins and lengths of twisted white silk. A few tendrils were teased into tiny curls, skimming the nape of her elegant neck and she wore a single coral droplet on a cream, satin ribbon around her neck.  
Her creamy complexion; her best feature according to her loving father; was dewy and clear; her eyes were sparkling and her only cosmetic addition was a small amount of pink rouge dabbed into the centre of her lower lip, which added fullness.  
She had dabbed her favourite scent behind her ears, knees, in the cleft of her bosom and on each wrist and draped a pale green length of delicately embroidered silk around her, tucking it into the hinge of her elbows.

She disembarked from her carriage, which had deposited her some distance from the house; meaning she had to delicately pick her way over remnants of previous horses as well as watch out for other carriages – it was a familiar feature of parties in the Season, in central London. 

From his own, covered carriage, Colonel Strike allowed his intense gaze to linger on the shapely ankles he observed as the pretty, amber haired owner deftly made her way to the stairs leading to the building. He saw her mostly from the back and noticed, with a deep inhalation, her slight wriggle as she dropped her hitched skirts prior to climbing the stairs; her gloved hands lightly skimming the stone balustrade.

He unfolded himself from the carriage, carefully placing his left foot down on the cobbled street prior to bringing his now weaker right one out, adjusting his collar and white cravat slightly – it felt unfamiliarly stiff next to his neck – and his black, woollen, snuggly fitting tail coat.  
He strode across and mounted the stairs, realising that the pretty red-gold haired young lady was only a few people ahead of him in the line to enter.

The combination of his height, and her height meant he had a relatively clear view of the back of her head.  
He amused himself by trying to follow the intricate plaits in her hairstyle from one side of her head to the other, like a puzzle. He was also side tracked by the sight of the 3 jade buttons on the back of her gown, which caused him to consider the highly sensual area of skin at the nape of her neck.  
The coldness of the evening air made his leg ache slightly, even from standing for such a short period of time…..this could be a long evening….even without dancing!

He was scowling in discomfort slightly as the line moved forwards, meaning that as the pretty haired Miss Ellacott turned slightly and saw him, he greeted her with an almost snarl…..although her arched eyebrow of recognition seemed to match it perfectly.

“Damn, that rude man’s here,” thought Venetia as she gathered herself to be presented. “He’s really devilishly dark…..and tall!” she mentally added.

“Damn, that woman I almost killed earlier’s here,” thought Colonel Strike as he manoeuvred his leg into a more comfortable position, “She’s got damn sexy ankles though!” he mentally added.


	4. I should return before I am missed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party time! Lots of descriptions of frocks and smouldering glances, plus we meet Matthew (yes, we can all do a pantomime style boo for him in this story!) Colonel Strike and Miss Ellacott also have their first 'proper' encounter! Slow burn is the watch word!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more than a touch of Gone with the Wind to this chapter - one of my fav scenes...and it's costume so it's going in!

“Miss Venetia Ellacott,” the deep, resonant voice introduced her having glanced briefly at her card on the silver tray.  
“Venetia, darling!” Ilsa hugged her happily and kissed her cheek. Her husband, Nicholas greeted her with a more formal, but sincere clasp of her gloved hand and a warm smile.  
“How lovely to see you again, Miss Ellacott. I am so glad you were able to attend. I hear that we shall be near neighbours upon our move to the north,” Nicholas was kind, generous and fun; and she was exceedingly pleased that he had married her London friend and even more so that they could continue to be friends after their marriage.  
“I shall find you later Venetia dearest to continue our conversation from earlier,” and she flashed her eyebrows mischievously and squeezed the muscular upper arm of her husband.

‘Earlier’ Ilsa had been explaining to Venetia exactly what being a married woman entailed….in quite some detail!  
Venetia was quite eager to hear the conclusion of the events; they had been joined for tea by a friend of Nicholas, eager to wish her congratulations on their nuptuals and so had been interrupted….at quite a significant point in the matrimonial proceedings too!

Several more names had been announced as Venetia was kept talking by Ilsa before the Colonel’s name was announced:  
“Colonel Cormoran Strike.”  
Nicholas Herbert thrust out his arm and enthusiastically shook hands with the enormous man before him.  
“Cormoran! You’ve hardly changed at all since Oxford! How the devil are you?” 

Colonel Strike smiled warmly, remembering the man fondly from his Oxford days; although his gaze was still slightly side tracked by the sight of the beautiful amber haired, Miss Ellacott who was looking even more delightful as she whispered and giggled with Nicholas’ wife.

“Nicholas, it’s very good to see you again…..and finally quite respectable given some of the antics I seem to recall you got up to……” the Colonel smirked at Nicholas’ blushes and good natured laughter.  
“….Erm….I think WE got up to, therefore I feel quite safe in the knowledge that if you were to tell of them you would implicate yourself in the same shame!” Nicholas had enjoyed Cormoran’s company back then; his dubious parentage and lack of attendance at a ‘good school’ had left him wide open to ridicule, but he’d coped with it using a mixture of hard work, thick skin and tenacious aggression when needed, which Nicholas preferred to the simpering sons of privilege he'd spent most of his youth surrounded by.

Ilsa had waved Venetia off on the arm of some willing gentleman and now turned to greet the towering man who seemed so convivial with her husband.  
“Oh, gracious! You’re the chap who rescued Venetia at the tea rooms!” she babbled, taking in the same dark, intense eyes and muscular build.  
“My dear, this is Colonel Strike, a friend from my Oxford days….now what’s this about him rescuing Miss Ellacott? I’m not convinced that she’s a lady who ever needs a man to rescue her, not from what I know of her anyway!” Nicholas grinned.

The Colonel took Ilsa’s ungloved hand and raised it to his uneven lips.  
His moustache was soft as he pressed a courteous kiss to her skin.  
“May I offer my sincere congratulations on your marriage, madam. I fear that you may have the wrong opinion of my interaction with your friend…..I was responsible for almost causing her to plummet down the staircase due to my haste. I am pleased to see that she bears to lasting injury or lack of spirits though,” Strike’s eyes drifted to find the tall, slender form of Miss Ellacott, who was now talking in her animated fashion with a small group of both sexes.

Ilsa noted a brief, almost imperceptible rise to one of his dark brows.  
“I shall leave you to greet your guests. If you will excuse me,” and with that he issued the same, crisp bow from earlier and made his way across to a vantage point which allowed him the best possible view of Miss Ellacott’s sparkling eyes; combined with a rather decent glass or two of porter, it was a pleasant way of spending an hour.

 

“And he isn’t recognised by the father at all you say?” a whispered, girlish voice continued.  
“Indeed not! But redeemed himself in the war a little, and was at Oxford with Nicholas Herbert, who's as decent a fellow as one could meet,” one of the masculine, clipped accents added.  
“But that scandal with Lady Charlotte Campbell? Do you think the rumours of her affair with him are true? She’s engaged to Baron Ross don’t you know……whatever fancy she had him has surely faded now…..a title and thirty thousand pounds can make one’s feeling fade quite quickly!”  
Ridiculous laughter ensued from the group and their eyes followed the tall figure as he blended into the gathering as best he could given his stature.  
Miss Ellacott listened to the gossip, but did not join in the laughter, especially owing to the fact that the dark eyes belonging to the handsome gentleman seemed to be focussed upon her more so than the general scene. 

She would have glanced at him further had not Matthew de Cunliffe hove into view, his chiselled features and auburn hair distracting her and the ladies of the group instantly. His black suit fitted snugly across his broad shoulders, and his trousers were a more slim, fashionable cut, meaning that his muscular legs were barely concealed.  
“Miss Ellacott; how delightfully vivacious you look this evening. Would you do me the honour of accompanying me into the entertainments?” his silky voice and intense eyes almost melted Venetia and she took de Cunliffe’s arm as he led her through to the ballroom, which on this occasion was arranged to allow rows of seating facing a dais containing a music stand.

Colonel Strike winced as she slipped her arm into the crook of the other man’s elbow, especially as he could see plainly that the ‘gentleman’s’ eyes were fixed firmly on Miss Ellacott’s inviting and ample bosom.  
So, she was his.  
Another female, along with Lady Charlotte Campbell, he would carry around in his head whilst walking his path alone.

Shaking off the images of the two women he cast his intense, almost snarling gaze around the room.  
There were several pretty faces who he could amuse himself with, and some where casting him furtive glances of their own.  
Ah well……entertainment to be endured. That would pass some more of this dull evening.  
He would say that anything was preferential to dancing, but glancing at the seating and dais his mood plummeted further….it was bound to be some operatic musical event….which would go on far longer than his interest would last.

Before moving into the ballroom he sought out the library where he found several gents partaking in cigars.  
He selected one and found a winged chair facing away from the door and tucked away in the corner to settle into as he puffed clouds of comforting smoke into a fug around him.  
He spoke pleasantly to several of the other men, some of whom had military backgrounds themselves, and thankfully didn’t require too many lurid details about his injuries and smoked half of the fat cigar before he extinguished it and set it aside to continue it later.

The opening bars of music had begun as he squeezed into a vacant seat, and in excusing himself and adjusting the position of his leg once seated inhaled sharply upon realising he was seated directly behind the attractive Miss Ellacott. The three jade buttons and tendrils of golden haired against the smooth creaminess of her elegant neck ensured that he was amply occupied throughout the operatic aria.

When the ovations and applause ceased Venetia moved to follow Mr de Cunliffe for refreshments, but realised the loss of her wrap and returned briefly to her seat.  
Colonel Strike had risen from his seat but noticed Miss Ellacott’s return and chastised himself as his gaze was drawn to the abundance of creamy flesh on display as she reached down for the pale green wrap which had slipped to the carpet.  
She slid it through one arm and twisted slightly to capture the other end, tutting slightly in her frustration.  
“If you will allow me, Miss Ellacott,” the colonel lifted the delicate fabric lightly in his large, swarthy hand and draped it across her left arm, the tips of his fingers grazing the small section of her skin visible between her sleeve and glove, causing a shiver to wash over her despite the incredible heat of his touch.  
Her gaze was inexplicably drawn to his scarred upper lip, almost hidden beneath the dark bristles of his moustaches before being dragged to his green eyed, intense stare.

“I am happy to see no lasting damage following our unfortunate meeting earlier,” his deep, rumbling baritone caused the shiver to relocate low down in her stomach.  
“Sir, I am a mill owners daughter, I have endured far worse by merely being stood in the wrong place when the finishing bell sounds,” and she flashed a wry smirk up at him through blue-grey eyes.  
He smiled, a natural, unaffected smile which made his eyes crinkle at the sides momentarily, until he seemed to shake away the sensation and regain control of himself.  
“That being so, I shall endeavour to sound a bell as warning in case of further meetings,” and with that he excused himself, just as Matthew de Cunliffe returned to reclaim his prize.  
The narrow eyed glare he cast him was not lost on the colonel.

Nicholas Herbert intercepted the colonel who was desirous to resume his quiet contemplation of jade buttons and silken skin with the remaining part of his cigar.  
“Cormoran! You must tell me what you have been doing since we last met. I hear you are to be congratulated on your military prowess,” and so began an enjoyable conversation where both men shared the intervening events in their lives, both sensitive of the need to gloss over some topics of conversation.

Ilsa was in conversation with Miss Ellacott, and the pair were clearly amused, or maybe shocked, by whatever the topic was covering.  
Matthew de Cunliffe he noticed was sloping off towards a doorway with Constance Belleville.

Others joined both sets of discussion and eventually the pain in the colonel’s leg forced him to make his excuses and seek out the comfort of that armchair….and his cigar….and possibly a whisky now that it was considered an appropriate hour.  
He scooped up a selection of items from the refreshments table en route, and located the now empty room.  
He took the liberty of adding a log to the fire and set it into a crackling blaze before selecting a volume from the shelf and settling back, his leg propped on a small stool, cigar smouldering gently at his side.  
The pie was a good one, as was the book he had selected.  
So engrossed was he that he hardly realised the door opening until it was too late and the persons who had entered were already deep in….well, argument.

“I am fully at liberty to spend my evenings in the company of whomever I choose, and you have no right, Madam to prevent that,” the male voice shouted.  
“You are quite right, but disappearing into rooms, closing the door behind you without a chaperone….and with a young woman, Sir, it is humiliating when you have been so attentive towards another all evening,” this time the female voice.  
“I am in a room without a chaperone now, with a very beautiful young lady…..you don’t seem to be complaining about my attentiveness towards you now. Come her, come here little Robin…..let me be attentive towards you and only you,” the tone caused the colonel to close his book and clench one large hand into a fist.  
“Oh, get away from me,” and a resounding slap rang out, followed by a muffled growl, “ Go and continue your attentiveness to Miss Belleville.” The final statement given was accompanied by an opening and closing of the door, and a feminine exclamation of anguish.

Colonel Strike remained static in his pose, awaiting an opportune moment to either show himself or steel away, unseen.  
He could hear the female voice muttering, and felt footsteps moving in what he assumed was a pacing motion, he then sensed the footsteps closing in on his position.  
Miss Ellacott appeared in his view, eyes focussed upon a gaudy piece of pottery ornamentation above the mantle.  
She clasped it with a determined tension to her lips and made to throw it across the room but paused upon glimpsing the imposing frame of Colonel Strike seated casually now in the winged chair, his features powerfully enhanced by the glow from the fire.

“Don’t let me interrupt….pray continue!” he quipped, glancing at the porcelain poised in her raised hand.  
“Sir! You….you should have made yourself known earlier,” she spat out.  
“And interrupt such a poignant scene? Please tell me, as I am at a loss of visual details….was that the same hand responsible for that rather timely and dare I say fully deserved slap?” the smirk of his lip combined with the uneven scar created an almost mocking snarl, but there was a lightness to his smouldering eyes, and Venetia could not prevent the small, pouting grin which broke out on her face.  
“Other one as a matter of fact….,” Venetia glanced at the piece of decoration still clasped in her raised hand.  
“Well if you are planning on throwing it against the wall in anger I fear if you delay the moment will have been lost!” he continued in his somehow arousingly relaxed and offhand manner.  
She replaced the item on the mantle and instead selected the poker from beside the fire and stabbed at the flames as a vent to her frustration.

“Why are you skulking around by yourself in here anyway, Colonel? I at least had a valid reason for seeking a moment of refuge,” she regarded him openly, apparently either ignorant of, or unconcerned by the fact that she was alone in a secluded room with a single male.  
He wasn’t sure which option he would prefer to be true!

He picked up both his smouldering cigar butt and book, carefully removing his elevated foot from it’s stool.  
“Unintentional solitude, but I plead guilty to the charge of skulking,” another flash of those mesmeric eyes as he rose from his chair and tossed the small cigar butt into the flames.  
Whether it was the proximity of the fire or the presence of his large, masculine body but Miss Ellacott suddenly felt a heat to her cheeks.  
“I should return before I am missed,” she stammered, taking several steps backwards.  
“I’m sure you will find it is too late for that, Miss Ellacott,” and he gave her a curt bow, his eyes never leaving hers as she located the door handle and slipped back to the almost deafening noise of the party.

“Venetia, dearest, come and join us in cards,” Ilsa swooped down upon her and lead her slightly flushed friend across to another room where her husband, Nicholas was waiting for them, along with another of his friends who had expressed a desire to be introduced to Miss Ellacott.  
He was a decent enough looking fellow, although short and slightly chubby compared to Nicholas’ height and lithe muscles contained within his black suit and white, high necked shirt.  
Venetia noticed Nicholas' knuckles lightly grazing his wife’s arm as he assisted her into her seat himself; and Venetia’s mind was cast back to her giggling discussion with Ilsa earlier. She couldn’t help but focus on those dexterous fingers, which were now holding a chair for her. She was still slightly aghast at what Ilsa had described him doing with them.....but apparently it was rather jolly! Lucky Ilsa!

The rest of the party was spent at the card table, or scanning the room for him.  
“Are you looking for Matthew?” Ilsa whispered conspiratorially.  
Venetia jolted slightly before answering, “Yes….Matthew, of course.”


	5. Nothing a decent bit of shooting and a cigar won't cure!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after the party, Venetia and Colonel Strike wake up and ponder a new day - carriage rides in Rotten Row.  
> A chance encounter sees a formal introduction take place, and Strike's heart dares to hope....until de Cunliffe turns up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah...I just thought it was fun to have Stephen's wife, Jenny, called Jennifer Lawrence!! (I watched The Hunger Games at the weekend!)

Venetia rose and after dressing went to eat breakfast with her brother’s in-laws. Mr and Mrs Lawrence.  
Her brother, Stephen had been married to their daughter, Jennifer, for 3 years. It was a good marriage between two similar families; both industrial in their backgrounds and sensitive of the fact that money and security should be earned through hard, honest work.  
Stephen lived with Jennifer back in Keighley, in a substantial home close to her parents.  
Venetia was incredibly grateful to them for permitting her to stay with them in London and she enjoyed their company – they reminded her somewhat of her own parents, although Mr Lawrence was not quite so eccentric as her own father!

“Venetia, my dear. I have arranged for the carriage; perhaps some fresh air on Rotten Row? It will also give the staff time to prepare the house for this evening,” Mr Lawrence commented as she arrived in the breakfast room.

The Lawrences were giving a fairly small dinner party that evening, just 30 or so guests, amongst them was Matthew de Cunliffe whom they had invited at her request; although after their encounter at the Herbert’s the previous evening she wasn’t sure he would appear.  
She had reflected on her behaviour; perhaps slapping him had been hasty.  
He was after all incredibly handsome and generally incredibly attentive towards her.

She selected sliced beef, fried potatoes and smiled as the aroma of coffee met her nostrils.  
She had a letter from her father; relating what appeared to be the entire business of everyone in the town, but his amusing descriptions of the characters she knew made her chuckle and pang for home, especially when he addressed the letter to ‘My Little Robin’ and signed off the as ‘Your loving Papa.’

Venetia had dressed in a pale blue day dress and added her thicker, navy coloured pelisse which fastened with intricate frogging. She wore a bonnet with a soft, ruched crown and a small neat brim which needed no fastening; but she added a large, silver coloured hatpin to secure it to her hair.  
She sat in the carriage along with Mrs Lawrence whilst Mr Lawrence took the opportunity of driving the horses himself.  
They paid entry to the ‘row’ and joined the other carriages, horses and pedestrians taking advantage of the fresh air and pleasant weather.  
Ilsa and Nicholas Herbert were walking arm in arm and they stopped the carriage to talk to them – they were invited to the dinner of course, being close friends of Venetia, and Mr Lawrence feeling they were a solid, stable influence on her.  
________  
Colonel Strike woke and dressed in his military uniform which had been laid out for him by Shanker. He fetched heated water for him to shave, although he left a significant portion of his beard and moustache untouched.

The town house he was renting had a very nice morning room, which was where he preferred to take breakfast, and he sorted his post.  
It made him smirk his uneven lips that so much of the post appeared to be invitations to events….apparently his military prowess had rendered his bastard heritage a little less of an issue. Or maybe it was just because he was now a relatively wealthy, single man…..for a single man in possession of a considerable fortune MUST be in want of a wife!

He planned to take a walk along the Row, it was pleasing exercise as it enabled him to use his cane without being considered infirm – a cane was a jaunty addition to many London gents’ apparel.  
He would also head for the Hyde Park barracks where, although he could no longer show off his prowess with a sword was perfectly able to teach the youngsters a thing or two about shooting; his particular expertise lying in handling the musket or pistols.

He drizzled honey on hot crumpets to accompany his kedgeree and coffee, along with a goblet of watered down porter.  
The sight of the amber liquid made his thoughts flash back to the delightful and spirited Miss Ellacott; it was a shade not dissimilar to her hair, and he’d spent a considerable part of the previous evening admiring it…..so he would know.

He had been party to several discussions in which her considerable charms had been considered; but apparently she was being pursued by Matthew de Cunliffe. However, the brief interlude he had witnessed when she had resoundingly struck him may well have put paid to that.

He would like to know her better.

Dressed and looking characteristically handsome in his military uniform he made his way the short distance towards the other carriages and strollers heading towards Rotten Row.

His first encounter was with a small group, some of whom he recognised from the previous evening at the Herbert’s – a mixture of males and females, accompanying some married couples for ‘safety’.  
He was slightly, although not completely, oblivious to the fluttering eyelashes and charming smiles offered his way by the bevvy of beauties.  
Questions were asked about his army history; had he suffered any injuries? did he have any scars? had he ever killed a man?  
He answered all with a delicious mix of honesty and tantalising mystique, causing one of the young ladies to whimper and fan herself as she gazed down his muscular physique.

He made his excuses after a polite amount of time spent in their company and moved onwards. 

It was quite busy along the road, but he saw a familiar face ahead and smiled warmly as he greeted his friend coming in the opposite direction:  
“Colonel Strike! How good to see you again so soon,” Nicholas Herbert remarked, moving to one side so that they could talk and not block the flow of movement.  
Ilsa smiled and took the opportunity, as her husband and the colonel spoke, to take his likeness.

He was incredibly tall, several inches taller than her own, tall husband; and he was imposing – his shoulders were so broad, especially when each was topped with the stiff, gold epaulette of his rank. His tall black hat emblazoned with military regalia and a sliver chin strap lying across it's peak made him appear even taller.  
The dazzling scarlet of his jacket set off his dark, tousled hair visible beneath the rim of his hat and green eyes well. His features were serious, but when he laughed; as he did now at something her Nicky was sharing, they twinkled and became quite alive.  
She noticed his cane and the fact that he was favouring his left leg as he stood, but despite this he had an overwhelming presence of strength and security.

As they spoke a carriage trotted and slowed to a walk and a stop adjacent to them, and Ilsa’s features lit up as she saw the smiling face of her friend, Venetia Ellacott.

Mr Lawrence had already been introduced to Colonel Strike and he greeted him formally from the carriage seat.  
Venetia’s eyes roamed over the sight of the handsome colonel in his red coat, slim fitting, grey trousers and tall, black hat as she smiled at Ilsa’s news – nothing of much significance, thankfully, meaning she could glance across at the colonel as he spoke with Nicholas and Mr Lawrence.

Her attention was dragged back as she noticed him turning to the back of the carriage where she sat, and Mr Lawrence twisted in the driving seat.  
“Colonel Strike, may I take the liberty of introducing my wife, Mrs Lawrence, and the sister of my son-in-law, Miss Ellacott.”  
The Colonel turned his gait towards Mrs Lawrence, removed his tall, hat and took her hand in a gallant clasp as he offered her a polite bow and warm smile of acknowledgement.

“Mrs Lawrence, very much my pleasure to meet you,” his deep baritone seemed to stir something within Venetia’s core and she realised that her mouth was slightly open as he turned his attention towards her,  
“Miss Ellacott, I feel an official introduction is only appropriate given the nature of our previous encounter,” and he gave the slender hand she offered a miniscule squeeze and a graze of his thumb across her fingertips as he curled his lips into a small, amused smirk.  
The combination of his touch, grin and mischievously dark eyes meeting hers caused her to make a small noise in her chest.

“You already know our dear Venetia?” asked a quizzical Mr Lawrence, glancing between the pair.  
Venetia pressed her lips together, wondering how she could possibly explain the encounter in that study without putting her reputation into question.

Thankfully, the mischievous glint in Colonel Strike’s eyes bubbled as he spoke, “Unfortunately Miss Ellacott and I met when I almost caused her bodily harm….my haste and her position at the top of the staircase at The Royal Tea Rooms nearly lead to a…..breakage,” and he flashed his face back to hers at the final word, his hooded eyes burning into hers as he looked slightly up at her from her position inside the carriage.

Ilsa interjected at this point, “Although he was at pains to ensure she was quite well before he left us,” she reassured Mrs Lawrence.

“Are you engaged this evening, Colonel?” she asked brightly, having glanced at her husband and receiving a fractional nod of understanding.  
“Not as yet, Mrs Lawrence. I’m afraid I left a great deal of correspondence and invitations unopened in my desire for fresh air and exercise today,” he explained.  
“Then would you be so good as to join us this evening for a small dinner party? Mr Herbert and his wife are joining us; you would be a most welcome addition,” Mrs Lawrence asked, in that manner which really assumed the answer would be yes.

Venetia calmed her features to remain stoic and unphased by his response; she was somewhat irritated at the way he made her almost lose her sense of control and balance….somehow he disrupted her equilibrium in a manner which she did not permit from others….including Mr de Cunliffe even!

“I can think of nothing more pleasurable than dining in your company, Madam,” he addressed the comment towards Mrs Lawrence, but flitted is gaze fractionally towards Venetia and was rewarded with a slight flicker of a smile to those rosy lips. “I should not detain you from your other acquaintances any longer. Madam, Mr Lawrence….Miss Ellacott, good day,” and with a curt bow, and a similar exchange towards Mr and Mrs Herbert, he was replacing his hat and walking off towards the Knightsbridge barracks.

Venetia couldn’t help but admire his stature, even the slight limp and his use of his cane rendered him slightly more interesting…..she wondered what she would find beneath those grey breeches…..she bit her lip at the thought of his war scarred body but was pulled back to reality abruptly.

“Mrs Lawrence and the very beautiful Miss Ellacott,” it was the smooth voice of Matthew de Cunliffe.  
He had halted his chestnut mare beside their carriage and was lowering his hat in their direction.

His features were infinitely more refined that those of Colonel Strike, and his voice silky in it’s tone; almost curling the words around his tongue as he spoke.  
He was undeniably handsome in his deep, blue coat astride his horse.  
Mrs Lawrence turned to talk to another of her and her husband’s acquaintances allowing Venetia and Mr de Cunliffe a moment of relative privacy – Mrs Lawrence was very aware of Mr de Cunliffe’s attention to her charge, and he was undoubtedly a good match….although there was something about him that she disliked; her husband mocked her by stating it was because he was simply too handsome, and too young to show interest in her!!

“I trust I am forgiven for my moment of stupidity at the Herbert’s last night?” he asked, adding an almost simpering tone to his voice and lowering his head in a plaintive, faintly ridiculous manner; which caused Venetia to toss her head back and laugh brightly.

This was the scene meeting Colonal Strike’s view when he turned to cast a final glance at the pretty features of Miss Ellacott.

His shoulders slumped slightly and he inhaled deeply; although the image of her bright face and twinkling eyes caused a tug within his chest.

She had presumably forgiven him for his behaviour, and yes….of course he had forgiven her for slapping his face….anyone would!

He walked with more purpose now towards the barracks, and once there blasted shot after shot at a straw target with alarming precision and ferocity before he sat in the reading rooms and smoked a cigar, blowing the smoke into a fug around him in an attempt to make himself invisible to the world.


	6. A romantic chemistry is always exciting.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quite a long one, and we're only half way through the dinner party!  
> Lots of description and Venetia starts to notice the Colonel more and more.  
> Our Colonel takes a bath, plus a delicious waistcoat features, as does some amusing banter about the possible concept of ye olde fanfic writers!!!  
> And Matthew is still slimy....and Lady Sarah Shadlock is vapid!

Upon returning to the Lawrence’s smart home, they were greeted with a flurry of organised activity as the staff arranged the house for the dinner party.  
The footman took charge of the carriage as Venetia and Mrs Lawrence went inside. They made for their rooms as these would not be needed for the party, and therefore they could have relative solitude.

Venetia was lucky to have her own small parlour, which is where she headed.  
She removed her outdoor clothes and seated herself at her favoured window seat where she curled her feet up and found the page in her book she was up to.  
She had discovered some rather risqué ancient volumes in the library and was currently distracting herself with the somewhat wicked writings of Catullus.  
Something about the poem made her consider the 2 men who had paid her attention earlier that day.  
On the one hand there was the tall, handsome, charming Mr de Cunliffe; and on the other hand there was the tall handsome, charming and mysterious Colonel Strike.

Hmmmmm….what a pleasant way of spending several hours……and what a delicious choice to have to make!

She took a luncheon tray in her room rather than interrupt the staff further and after partaking in a pleasingly simple selection of braised fish with potatoes followed by apple crumble she lay down to rest before preparing for the dinner party.

__________________  
Colonel Strike made his way back to his rented property after lunch at the barracks.  
He was popular with the other soldiers there; his modesty earning him respect along with the skills he had demonstrated without boast on the shooting range.

He shouted for his valet upon entering the house and climbed the staircase, 3 treads at a time.  
Shanker caught up with him as he was pouring and drinking a whisky from the decanter in the morning room.  
“I’m going to a dinner party. I’d like to bathe and I’d like my crimson waistcoat…..choose something that will match it will you please…….and order a carriage for seven o’clock,” he delivered his wishes whilst drinking a second measure of whisky.  
Shanker sniffed and nodded, mentally considering whether he should steam the Colonel’s black frock coat, or his new grey one……the grey one, definitely the grey one…..and he’d press out his dark grey trousers too.  
“Shall I draw you that bath now, Sir, or are you planning to tackle some of your post? Got a bundle more invitations and cards, Sir. Couple of visitors left their cards for you too….one fellow, a Mr Hardcastle, came with his sister and two of her friends….all giggling away like nutters!.........pretty though!” he flashed a waggling brow at his master and sloped back towards the door as he saw the flash of annoyance cross Strike’s arch browed glare.  
“I’ll deal with my post which I presume is in the library…..and you can prepare my bath in an hour,” and he ambled across the hallway towards his sanctuary while Shanker headed off with a list forming in his head of what he needed to organise for his master.

Later, reclining in his bath Colonel Strike reflected on his mood and how a fleeting and chance encounter with Miss Ellacott had simultaneously raised and dashed his hopes of finding happiness post Charlotte Campbell.  
He eased himself back against the copper bath, his shoulders and arms splayed around the raised back.  
He manipulated his right leg gently up and down in the hot water; it always eased the tension in the weak muscles. 

Whilst drying himself he regarded the gnarled skin which covered the section of his body from below his right knee.  
He had suffered from a combination of the bones being crushed and also agonising burns when he had fallen under a cart and horse carrying ammunition which had ignited.  
The bones could not be set properly due to the burns healing and thus he was left with a forever weakened limb, causing his limp.  
He thought about Miss Ellacott’s creamy, smooth skin.  
He’d imprinted those blue-grey eyes, her rosebud lips and amber coloured hair on his memory; but the sight of her buttery coloured skin falling from her neck to the delicately pleated bodice of her gown at the Herbert’s party found it’s way into his memory now.  
He regarded the ugly skin of his own right leg, ignoring the rippling, firm musculature visible across the rest of his physique.  
She wouldn’t want him.  
Of course she would want the perfectly primped and healthy Matthew de Cunliffe.  
____

Venetia regarded her reflection prior to greeting guests she knew had already started to arrive for the dinner thrown by Mr and Mrs Lawrence.  
As it was a meal rather than dancing and partying she had opted for a gown of a stronger colour rather than the muted creams and pastel shades which were the fashion these days.  
The almost plum coloured sateen of the gown was highlighted with ruffled grey satin ribbons and a scattering of jet beads across the bodice in an almost lattice pattern. The neckline was wide, falling to a gentle v shape both front and back. Each, small, puffed sleeve was split to reveal a second below it in a pale, dove grey, and the same fabric was visible at the back of the gown as 3 deep pleats running from the high waist to the ground.  
She was wearing her hair in an almost Grecian style, with grey and plum coloured ribbons twirled through it, to hold it in soft waves off her face, but leaving some of the length at the back in the form of a curled ponytail which bobbed as she twisted her neck to check herself once more.  
She did not wear a necklace or gloves, as she was ‘at home’, but wore a pair of simple, ruby ear studs.  
She was pleased with the result.  
Whether Matthew de Cunliffe would be was another matter……or whether Colonel Strike would be……although of course his opinion of her was of no importance…..despite the fact that she thought of him as she added a final dab of her cologne between her softly encased breasts.

Down in the wide hallway there was noise, signifying the arrival of guests and a clinking of glasses on trays.  
Venetia liked the house because it offered lots of opportunities for spying, especially from the landing near her room down to the foyer below – although it was large enough to be considered a perfect assembling room as it was furnished with sofas and other seating.  
From her concealed position behind a drape she could see Matthew de Cunliffe – he was wearing black trousers and a black frock coat which did little for his colouring she thought; although he was slim, tall and handsome enough, and apparently amusing himself and those around him with his stories.  
He was talking with Lord and Lady Shadlock who were old friends of Mr and Mrs Lawrence, and their daughter, the Lady Sarah was hanging on his every word, almost simpering over him.  
Venetia groaned and shook her head at the overt flirting of the woman….how shaming to throw oneself like that at a man….although Matthew did seem to be paying her attention with some slow glances and twitches of his eyebrows.

She brought her gaze away and saw that Mr and Mrs Herbert had arrived, Ilsa looking pretty in a deep apricot coloured gown which suited her fair hair and freckled complexion well. Her husband Nicholas looked rather dashing in a blue velvet frock coat and deep grey trousers.

Most of the other guests who had arrived were friends of the Lawrences, and as such older, and invariably in couples.  
She noticed that her lip jutted at the thought that the Colonel wasn’t there yet…..but that was of no importance to her; and with a flick of her neck she descended the staircase, which flicked into a curving sweep into the foyer, finishing with a small dais, with 3 final stairs to reach the hall floor.

She was part way down the sweeping part when the door opened and Colonel Strike arrived.

The location of the front door to her position on the staircase meant that he had virtually no choice but to gaze upon her and no other as he entered the property.

But as he did so, and told himself that it was mere coincidence that his eyes had found hers before another’s, he did have to reflect that even if she hadn’t been directly infront of him, he would have been hard pressed to notice anyone else in the room.

She was a vision. 

Tall, elegant and supremely confident unlike the simpering beauties who usually found his company at these events.  
He was somewhat speechless, but remembered his manners to seek out Mr and Mrs Lawrence and politely remake their acquaintance before moving to greet the Herberts, although dragging his eyes away from Miss Ellacott was difficult.

Venetia had by this stage reached the slightly elevated dais.  
Matthew de Cunliffe was still in deep, whispering and sniggering conversation with Lady Sarah, his behaviour keenly noticed by the Colonel, and also by Lord Shadlock!

Excusing himself from Nicholas and Ilsa’s immediate company he stepped across towards her.  
She was rather alarmed by the sensation he evoked within her.  
He looked ridiculously handsome and colourful next to Matthew’s sombre attire. The crimson of his waistcoat was eye catching and the grey fabric of his jacket had a warmth to it, which together with his dark curls, which looked charmingly tousled and almost, but not quite tame this evening, and trimmed beard gave him a definite presence in the room.  
His height and broadness ensured that he would always be noticeable, but as he approached Venetia now, she saw something else in his manner that was definitely attractive.  
He had a sureness about him and a confidence that was different to Matthew’s loud brashness.

“Miss Ellacott, how remarkably well you are looking this evening,” he stated on reaching her.  
Standing on the raised landing meant that she was slightly taller than him, but not by much, and she fought the urge to reach out and snare her fingers into his hair, suddenly wanting to know whether it was as soft as it looked from this proximity.

“Colonel Strike, I’m very glad you were able to join us,” she replied, managing to compose herself a little, but fighting back a gasp as he reached and took the fingers of her left hand in his large, ungloved right hand.  
He gently took hold of her fingers, and she was certain she noticed a slight hitch to his breathing as he brought her hand to his lips, catching the underside of her palm with a teasing graze of his index finger.  
His lips were soft and chaste, she felt how soft the bristles of his beard and moustache felt against her skin and allowed her little finger to rub against the softness of the skin between his thumb and fingers as he released her hand, but offered his arm.

“I know you to find staircases somewhat difficult to manage without assistance. May I?” he smiled that crinkle eyed grin at her and she couldn’t prevent the soft smile which lit up her face as she rested her hand gently on the proffered arm and walked down the stairs to be on the same level as him.

By this stage Matthew de Cunliffe had become aware of Venetia’s arrival in the gathering and he stalked across, almost yanking the hand resting on the Colonel’s arm away so that it rested on his own.  
“Venetia, dearest, come and join us,” and he steered her away to his group.  
Venetia cast a somewhat withering look across her shoulder and found the Colonel’s eyes waiting for her.  
He met her flustered expression with one of calm intent, it was almost more overwhelming than the smouldering gaze he had fixed on her on the staircase, but she was whisked into the conversation in her group quickly and the Colonel returned to the Herberts who were also talking to one of the older couples, one of whom was a retired Brigadier and who knew of the Colonel by reputation on the field rather than by reputation of his illegitimacy.

A short while later Mr Lawrence came across to offer his arm to the Brigadier’s wife which signified that they could start filing into the dining room.  
Cormoran offered his arm to Lady Sarah Shadlock who had ambled across to his circle of friends when it became clear that Mr de Cunliffe was distracted by another. Although the Colonel found her uninteresting, he would not have been ill mannered enough to leave a young lady without an escort.

He glanced up to a waiting member of staff in the dining room and escorted her to the seat indicated, a second footman indicated with his hand and murmured, “If you would, Colonel,” and showed him to a seat on the opposite side of the table, further up towards the Brigadier and Mr and Mrs Lawrence, which was pleasing.  
He naturally remained standing until the women were seated, and he noticed as Venetia entered on the arm of Matthew de Cunliffe that she was being seated immediately across from him.  
Matthew was a seat down from Lady Sarah, with Mrs Herbert on the other side, meaning she was on Cormoran’s left.  
Mr Lawrence indicated that the gentlemen could take their seats and without delay a plate was delivered to each diner together with a very decent white Burgundy.  
The terrine was filled with decadent chicken, ham, pheasant and duck, and was delicious - simple, but hearty which was his preferred style of eating.

As was considered polite, he made conversation with the female guest to his right first, which resulted in him discussing how the current weather was potentially affecting the availability of fresh roses for the upcoming wedding of the rather dour lady’s daughter.  
The arrival of the next course, a sublimely airy soup of hazelnuts and leeks, signalled that he could turn to speak to Mrs Herbert, which was significantly easier conversation and very pleasant indeed. 

It offered him the opportunity to glance across at Miss Ellacott too, as Ilsa happily spoke about interesting topics without needing him to prompt and lead the conversation – she was a woman with her own thoughts and views, which were founded in knowledge…….Nicholas Herbert was a fortunate man.

Across the table, Venetia cast furtive glances towards both Matthew and the Colonel whenever she could.  
Matthew seemed deep in conversation – although that would imply that either of the women he was engaging were taking part – no, it appeared that he was talking and they were listening and nodding.

The Colonel flashed several smoulderingly intense glances at her as the meal progressed.  
By the time the main meat courses were being delivered, the light was beginning to fade and the candles around the room started to cast a honeyed glow as a backdrop to Venetia which almost took the Colonel’s breath away.

For her part, Venetia was somewhat mesmerised by watching the Colonel eat!  
There was something about the manner in which he chewed his food; pressed his linen napkin to his mouth and caressed the stem of his wine goblet with his long fingers that was causing a blush to creep across the exposed skin of her decolletage.  
So transfixed was she that she barely finished her meat course.

Much to the general delight, a sorbet was served before desserts and there was much shared delight at the icy concoction, served in small glasses with tiny spoons.  
Colonel Strike became somewhat side tracked by the sight of Venetia’s pink tongue licking delicately at the lemony sorbet on her spoon, and he had to shift position, stretching out his right leg beneath the table to ease his slight discomfort, which wasn't confined to his lower leg.  
Thank goodness the portion of sorbet was small!

Desserts followed and the conversation had progressed to include others not immediately on either side.  
The Colonel was engaged in a discussion about the relative merits of novels being published in daily newspapers versus keeping them in single editions.  
He was neither for nor against either option as far as Venetia could ascertain, but he almost conducted the discussion in such a way that all of those taking part improved their own knowledge and widened their opinions.  
Yes, Venetia was certainly impressed; especially when he invited her into the discussion.

“Miss Ellacott, I trust that you are well read. What say you about the concept of a story becoming so well known, it’s characters being discussed as if they were real and those reading imagining their own version of events after the author has decided upon the ending? Do you consider this a positive development to the benefit of the masses?” he asked, quite seriously, his eyes deep and searching and almost making her wish she could take a step back from him due to their intensity.

She considered her response before speaking, which aroused and pleased him greatly, “I enjoy to read, and I like to do so at my own leisure; therefore the concept of having to be dictated to by whatever section the journal decided to publish would vex be greatly…..but only if the characters were so engaging that I wished to find out more. However, my imagination is such that I am sure if the author was slow in their work I could fashion an acceptable continuation in my own hand,” she dazzled him with a flash of her neat teeth and felt her stomach flip slightly as he returned her smile.

“So you are a skilled wordsmith, Miss Ellacott? And what in a character would render them engaging enough for you to discover more?” he lazily toyed his fingers on the stem of his claret glass as he spoke, then lifted it to his lips and took a draught, his green eyes almost daring her to say something provocative.

“A romantic chemistry is always exciting……although of course, the development of tension is oft times more enticing than the hero and heroine embracing,” she lifted a strawberry from the selection of glasshouse fruit on the table and bit down on it, licking the scarlet juice from her lips as Colonel Strike gripped the stem of his glassware with increasing ferocity, stifling a groan with a cough.

At this point Lady Sarah decided to cease her rapt attention towards Matthew de Cunliffe.  
“Oh I love to read of romantic nonsense…..did you know they are publishing stories each day in the newspaper? They often seem to have the same character too; not always an embrace though….but jolly diverting!” she giggled.

Mrs Lawrence stood and indicated that the ladies were to retire and the gents stood.  
Colonel Strike cast Venetia an almost regretful gaze, although all she saw was a smouldering pair of hooded green eyes almost boring into her, causing her breath to catch in her chest and her bosom to press heavily against the fabric of her bodice.  
Matthew de Cunliffe saw the gazes, but was more diverted by her ample breasts….he’d seek her out in the parlour later!


	7. You have just as much of a chance as him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dinner party ends, the Colonel displays an artistic talent and leaves a definite impression on Miss Ellacott.  
> He also comes to know her as Robin.

The ladies amused themselves in the parlour with muted conversation on topics which included the fashion for longer sleeves and how to pack trunks to avoid creasing gowns – many of the company would shortly be travelling north, including Mrs Herbert and Venetia.

“We have so enjoyed having Venetia here. It will seem quite dull without her vivacity and charms,” Mrs Lawrence commented sincerely. 

Lady Shadlock mentioned that she and Lord Shadlock would be heading to their Yorkshire estate shortly, apparently Sarah had requested it after discovering that Mr de Cunliffe would be proposing himself as a member of parliament for a northern constituency.  
Lady Sarah blushed deeply and either ignored, or didn’t see the raised eyebrow flashed in her direction by Venetia.  
“I do think politics is dreadfully dull, but also terribly exciting, especially when one knows someone involved,” she giggled and glanced towards Mrs Herbert and Venetia for vilification of her views.  
“You don’t think it somewhat unfair that women are not permitted a role in any such decisions?” Ilsa quipped.  
Lady Sarah looked aghast, “Goodness! What possible use could a woman be? I certainly know nothing of such matters….I would be quite useless!”

Mrs Lawrence noted the bitten cheeks of both of the other two younger ladies, and knew from time spent in their company that it was an opinion which they certainly didn’t share, “Lady Sarah, I do believe you have a talent for the piano…..would you be so good as to entertain us?”  
She happily, and almost thoughtlessly moved across to the piano and began to play a simple piece quite proficiently.  
Ilsa and Venetia shared an almost seething glance between them.

“Colonel Strike was being rather attentive towards you earlier this evening. He is definitely difficult to ignore!” Ilsa whispered as she delicately sipped sherry.  
Venetia couldn’t hide the shy smile which broke out on her face. “I know very little about him, other then the fact that he has recently come into some funds, and he has a somewhat delicate parentage.”  
Ilsa continued, “But surely we have seen that his military prowess appears to have over ridden all of that. Lord, the Brigadier openly requested his place be moved up the seating plan didn’t he?”  
Venetia nodded, “Apparently, yes….he’s very impressed by his military career. He earned quite a reputation…..oh, not like that,” she added as Ilsa giggled and pursed her lips, “No….he’s a very good tactician apparently, and incredibly brave. Nasty injury though – I heard Mr Lawrence discussing it,” and she wrinkled her nose at the thought of what his leg might look like.  
“Does that matter? It isn’t as though it’s on display, plus it proves his bravery. Something rather attractive about a gentleman who can endure pain like that, don’t you think!” Ilsa added.  
Venetia DID think.  
And yes, the fact that he’d endured a terrible injury and didn’t dwell on it was rather attractive.  
Although, his green eyes, height and broad shoulders didn’t require much additional encouragement in the attractiveness stakes.

 

A short time later the large doors opened and the gentlemen joined them; the noise level in the room instantly rising as they continued their loud discussions, especially Matthew she noted whose voice seemed to carry above the others.

Venetia was whisked into a game of cards along with Matthew, Lady Sarah and one of the other, married male guests.

Ilsa Herbert was taking an outline of her husband’s face using a screen by the firelight, Colonel Strike drifted across to talk with Nicholas. They had been talking in the dining room over port and cigars about his impending move to the outskirts of Bradford.  
Cormoran related that his post that day had included details of a possible commission based in Catterick; his leg meant that he could no longer be active in battle, but apparently his military brain and ability with a pistol was still worth something.  
Nicholas Herbert was enthusiastic about the man being based in such a relatively close proximity to him and his wife.

“You should take it….it will be very jolly to have you as such a close neighbour! And of course, Miss Ellacott will be a frequent visitor I daresay!” he winked at his final comment and noticed the slight blush which crept across the Colonel’s face.  
“And why on earth could that be of interest to me when she is clearly spoken for already,” he rose his eyes to the card table where Venetia was laughing gaily alongside Matthew de Cunliffe.  
“There’s no engagement!” Nicholas added quickly, “You have just as much of a chance as him….he just makes a bit more of a fuss about it all….gives the impression that she is already his. Ilsa knows her well….she’s turned down three, she knows her own mind and her father….well, he’s quite unique…..he only wants her happiness, hasn’t got any qualms about fortune or titles or any of that. Says as long as the chap’s decent and his Robin is happy….”  
“Robin?” queried the Colonel.  
“Oh yes…..family name for her. Bringer of joy that kind of thing I think Ilsa said it was from…” Nicholas Herbert related, but Colonel Strike had almost switched off from his comments.

He was transfixed by her across the room; she’d found his gaze on hers whilst the cards were being shuffled, and she hadn’t looked away.  
He swallowed and noticed that a slight flush crept across her cheeks.  
Her attention was jolted back to the card game and Strike realised that he hadn’t taken a breath.  
He glanced to his side, meaning to reach for the glass of whisky he was sipping, and noticed paper and writing materials on the sideboard.  
He twisted and leant on the surface, his fingers deftly marking the thick paper with pencil strokes.  
He worked quickly and with ease and within 10 minutes was satisfied with his creation.  
He wasn’t sure what to do with it though, so he annotated the bottom corner with a hastily sketched image of a robin and left the paper on the sideboard to be discovered at some later point.

 

The evening broke up politely; hats, gloves and carriages were sent for and pair by pair, one by one the guests left.  
Venetia lined up alongside Mr and Mrs Lawrence to accept the good wishes and thanks.

Matthew de Cunliffe pressed a slightly wet kiss to Venetia’s knuckles as he bade his farewells.  
He was certainly charming, and she had enjoyed his company at the card table.  
He had been attentive, and complimentary towards her….

Colonel Strike gave a polite bow and took her fingertips in the same, soft and tender manner he had done at the start of the evening.  
He lifted her hand rather than bend his neck towards it, meaning that he met her eyes with a smouldering look of desire as he grazed his warm lips across her skin.  
She noticed that his breath warmed her small hand momentarily before he moved on to thank Mrs Lawrence.

Feeling slightly giddy and light headed; obviously due to the sherry and not the Colonel she told herself; she wandered back into the parlour with the intention of clearing away the cards.

She noticed that the light screen was still close to the fireside, and that Ilsa had left the silhouette she had worked on of Nicholas on the small table.  
Smiling, she lifted it and placed the screen neatly to the side of the fireplace so as not to scorch it.  
The sight of the sketch on the sideboard, which was now revealed made her gasp and grasp her lower lip between her teeth.  
It was her, and it was beautiful.  
With just a few, simple strokes of the pencil her image had been captured; her intense eyes, elfin shaped face and full lips; parted to add further detail to her expression.  
It stopped at her neck, but her hair was captured in its swirling, Grecian style. 

It was exquisite. 

She also noticed the small robin image in the corner and smiled softly.  
Thinking back on the events of the evening there was only one person who could be responsible for it….those intense eyes that had found hers at the card table, clearly he had been taking her likeness……she was a little deflated, she had hoped he had simply been unable to prevent himself from glancing at her…..  
….but the sketch spoke volumes…..he’d drawn HER….not any of the other ladies.

She picked up the paper and lifted it to her nose, inhaling the slight, masculine scent of cigars, whisky and a touch of spicy cologne which was present….and took it with her to her room where it took her some time to get the image of Colonel Strike’s penetrating gaze from her mind.


	8. Know your competition!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Colonel shows more of his artistic prowess....for his own benefit.  
> He also makes a decision on his future and finds out something of Mr de Cunliffe's interests! [*insert pantomime booo here!]

Colonel Strike felt restless upon returning to his property.  
Shanker helped to remove his coat, waistcoat and cravat, but he waved him away rather than remove his boots.  
“I shall sit awhile before I retire…..but you need not trouble yourself further, Shanker. Please feel free to settle yourself,” the Colonel stated, nodding as Shanker departed wishing his master a good night.

He sat at the desk by the fire in his dressing room; the glow from the flames instantly took him back to the candle lit rooms of Mr and Mrs Lawrence, and the beautiful features of Miss Ellacott.  
“Robin…..” he whispered, his eyelids fluttering closed as he pictured her face and the way her amber-gold hair had framed her elegant neck with one wayward tendril curling against the peach toned skin.

He reached for his sketching materials, which were, as always, laid out on the desk.  
He used a pencil to sketch out the shape and features he desired before switching to oil based chalks to add shading, sweeps of colour and detail.

The Grecian style to her hair that evening had inspired him to imagine her figure draped in the style of a goddess, and he focused intensely on creating her contours and elegance.  
He realised he was breathing sharply as he finished adding shading to the picture and panted breathily, snapping the chalk in his fingers as he lingered over the curves and contours of her breasts, waist, hips and full lips.

He had captured her beauty, he felt, but there was also a wild, spirited confidence in the face the stared back at him from the page.

Satisfied with the artwork he made a decision and turned his attention towards the letter regarding the commission in Catterick.  
He would accept it.  
He would seek a small estate, possibly to the south of the town and he would do it all quickly, so that he might travel north with Mr and Mrs Herbert….and Miss Ellacott within the week.

She had not accepted Matthew de Cunliffe, and whilst this was the case there was still the possibility….

 

He found his way to his bed and sleep in the early hours, but still woke very early, with a fixed determination that made Shanker grin.  
“So you’d like me to make enquiries regarding a suitable estate then?” he asked in his abrupt, East London drawl.  
“Yes, Shanker, if you would. Nothing ridiculous, just large enough for entertaining, and staff of course…and within easy distance of Bradford…….and Keighley perhaps,” he added, a small blush appearing on his cheeks.  
“Keighley? Why the hell do you need to be near Keighley? You planning on investing in a mill?” Shanker asked, distractedly as he brought clothes out for his master.  
“Just find some properties won’t you….and I’m out paying visits today, so the frock coat please,” the Colonel pointed vaguely at the deep blue coat in his valet’s left hand rather than his military dress in his right. 

Shanker laid out the coat, a fresh, cream, linen shirt and a grey, satin cravat.  
His knee boots were always polished to a high, supple shine, and he had cream breeches to compliment the coat as was appropriate for the day time.  
His waistcoat was a grey silk, one of his favourites, covered in swirling embroidery in the design of forget-me-knots which added an additional colour to the beauty of the fabric and its exquisite fit.

He washed and dressed, and ate a modest breakfast before venturing out onto the streets of London, relatively early and devoid of people still.  
He intended to go to the Hyde Park Barracks and make it known that he wished to accept the Catterick commission.  
The Brigadier he had dined with the previous evening had specifically stated that he should take the position, that it would be in his power to organise it swiftly if he were to make it known.  
He assumed that it would entail some lengthy discussions, possibly the writing of some agreements and such like, and his intention was then to eat lunch out before paying afternoon visits to Mr and Mrs Herbert and Miss Ellacott. 

A full and relatively busy day; although he still found it difficult to fill his days having been used to an active life in the army, especially when on campaign.  
He chose to walk, he had his cane with him and he found that as long as he walked on a flat, well maintained surface it actually seemed to benefit his leg; particularly in good weather.

The route he took was a typical mixture of London’s highs and lows, taking him through some of the leafier parts full of tall, elegant houses; but also skirted some of the seedier sections of London.  
These were the busier parts at this time of day, and he was propositioned on several occasions by small children with outstretched palms and ‘ladies’ with outstretched lips and cleavages.  
He placed coins wordlessly into the palms of each child he passed.

He had almost made it through to Piccadilly when he heard a familiar loud, glib voice behind him.  
Turning, he saw Matthew de Cunliffe exiting a small, blue doored building, wearing the same clothes he had been sporting at the Lawrence’s the previous evening.  
He ducked into a small alleyway and observed as de Cunliffe adjusted his hat and marched away from the ramshackle property, stoically ignoring the children clamouring after him. 

Colonel Strike watched as Matthew ventured onto Piccadilly and hailed a carriage which whisked him off, presumably to his abode.

He wasn’t exactly shocked; he had been in the army and certainly knew that men often chose to amuse themselves in such establishments, although he had never utilised their facilities himself…..his tempestuous relationship with Lady Charlotte Campbell had been full of passion and moments of complete surrender to each other which had satisfied his own lusts to a lesser extent….but of course that was no more to feature in his life…..he still couldn’t see a point in the future where he would frequent such premises.

And this was the man who was his competition for Miss Ellacott!

He emerged from the alleyway and hastily continued onwards towards Hyde Park.

His business was carried out at the barracks swiftly.  
The Brigadier had been true to his word and had already advised the barracks of his personal recommendation of Colonel Strike.

He ended up taking lunch at the barracks, this time with the Brigadier himself and several other high profile ranks who appeared around noon.  
The paperwork was swiftly put in place whilst they ate and before he left in the mid afternoon he had agreed a position, salary and timescale of contract.  
Combined with the income from the Cornish mine it meant that he was worth a considerable sum.  
He could live comfortably, and certainly had enough money to be of interest to young ladies….his dubious parentage might preclude him from the higher ranks of society….but Miss Ellacott fell nicely into his sphere of interest.


	9. I have no offers, brother!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colonel Strike visits the Herberts and shares his new job news, they suggest a possible property for him.  
> He bumps into Miss Ellacott...and a 'mystery man'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tabley House is actually in Knutsford I think - nowhere near the right location, but it just looks like I expect his house to look!

With a relative, although not actual, spring in his step Colonel Strike ventured towards Mr and Mrs Herbert’s London dwelling hoping to catch them at home – Nicholas had mentioned the previous evening that they would be, so that their London based acquaintances could start to bid their farewells prior to them starting the trek northwards a few days later.

He passed on his card and was immediately shown through to one of the parlours where Mrs Herbert and Nicholas were seated for tea.  
Their previous guest had evidently not long since left as a used place setting was removed by the man servant who announced him.

Colonel Strike shook hands warmly with Nicholas and clasped Ilsa’s hand gallantly before he seated himself on the chaise and accepted tea in a cup and saucer which seemed almost too delicate for his masculine grasp.  
He shared his news regarding his position and was pleased that both Nicholas and his wife showed sincere pleasure in the fact that they would have a new and now familiar acquaintance closeby.

“You shall have to invite everyone to stay once you are settled. We are quite jolly as a tribe!” Ilsa explained with a smile. “Give the men something to shoot and us ladies something to read and look at and we’re happy to show up wherever we’re invited. I’ll make sure we introduce you to the other families we frequent.”

Nicholas selected another tartlet from the plate his wife offered, “If you’re in a position to move swiftly you could accompany us as we make the journey…..we’ve got a couple of invitations for respite en route, and obviously that is merely an excuse for parties and the like – some people who were unable to join us for the wedding festivities…..one is at the de Cunliffe’s estate, the other one of Ilsa’s distant family, but I’m sure they would be amenable to another chap – especially once they discover you are a gentleman of some fortune!” He waggled his eyebrows mischievously towards the Colonel, who blushed and rolled his own, hooded eyes lightly.  
“At present I have no destination in the north to aim for. My man is looking into properties but it’s unlikely I’ll have found something quite so quickly….but thank you,” the Colonel ate a slab of fruit cake in 2 massive bites, making Ilsa whimper slightly in her throat.

“What about Tabley House?” Ilsa commented as she rearranged saucers and added fresh heated water to the tea pot.  
Nicholas wagged his finger as a pause whilst he finished chewing his mouthful, “There’s an idea…..just the right size I’d imagine. It’s vacant I know because it used to belong to my uncle….he gave it up,” and whispered the following statement, “Gambling debts!”

Colonel Strike remained passive as the married couple seemed intent on discussing each aspect of the building without his interjection required.  
They seemed convinced it ‘would do very nicely’ for a single man with a decent fortune behind him!

The outside bell rang, the Colonel began to make his excuses – it being considered bad manners to linger when fresh guests arrived for tea – and rose to say good day, leaving and crossing the wide landing as Miss Ellacott was removing her coat and hat in the lobby, assisted by one of the housemaids.  
She was accompanied by, and wound her arms through the elbow of, a tall gentleman with attractive chiselled features, and blue-grey eyes which flashed him a wary glare as he paused to bow in recognition of Miss Ellacott.

She seemed shocked to see him and visibly jumped upon glancing up and seeing him.  
Gosh, she wished she had a fan!

He looked spectacularly handsome, the swirling blue embroidery of the waistcoat catching her eye as the silk caught the sunshine.  
She’d dipped her gaze so as to gather herself and hide the warmth and colour she could feel in her cheeks….and golly; she’d never seen him in tight breeches and tall boots before!  
Trailing her eyes up each muscular contour of his physique she eventually reached his penetrating eyes which flashed slightly towards her companion.  
She saw a tiny flicker of sadness behind them and it almost made her gasp.

“Miss Ellacott; good afternoon,” he rumbled in his deep baritone voice, the ‘a’ in afternoon betraying his Cornish heritage.

He did not pause further and briskly collected his cane and hat before striding through the door, his limp becoming more visible as he tackled the steps to the pavement, she noticed as she followed him with her eyes.

“Do you know him? You should have introduced me, Robin,” her companion rumbled in his rough, but tempered Yorkshire drawl.  
She flushed further, noted by the tall man beside her.  
“Oh! I see….is he that de Cunliffe fellow you’ve been mentioning to Jenny?” he asked, raising his brow and glancing after the Colonel who was still visible as he made his way across to the other side of the street.  
Venetia recovered her composure, “No; he is not Matthew de Cunliffe,” she whispered, “Come along, I want to introduce my big brother to my friends,” and she tugged on his arm as they crossed to the familiar parlour.  
“Seemed like a decent chap……if you’ve got a better offer I’d like to see it!” Stephen Ellacott chided as he walked beside her.

“I have no offers, brother!” she pouted. “And it suits me very well!”  
“Hmmmmm, maybe not yet….but you will! “ he remarked, raising an eyebrow, “And as your eldest brother it is my job to make their lives thoroughly unpleasant!” he smiled and tweaked his sister’s nose as they reached the parlour door.  
“I fear you may have met your match in Colonel Strike!” she offered, instantly cut off by Stephen, “Ahhh, so you admit to an interest!” he smirked. “I shall need to meet this other fellow, Martin was it? So that I may compare the two.”  
“It is Matthew, not Martin….and kindly stop talking about them as if they were a pair of rams you were considering for rutting to ewes!” but she giggled with mirth alongside her beloved brother.

 

So there was yet another rival for her attention the Colonel considered as he strode towards his rented home.  
There was no point detouring to the Lawrence house to pay his regards….his main purpose and interest had just presented herself, alongside yet another male companion, at the Herbert’s.  
So he had a fortune, a position, potentially a house….but he was still in want of a wife!


	10. Father will let me marry whoever I choose!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter - Colonel Strike is still unaware of who the 'mystery man' is.  
> It appears that Stephen Ellacott views the Colonel favourably, just from his brief glance at him - but he hasn't yet met Matthew!

In the parlour at the Herbert’s Venetia learned that Colonel Strike would be taking a position in the north and would be thrown into her circles more and more.  
“He’s an incredible shot,” Nicholas mentioned, “He’d be great fun to have along on a shoot…..hope he can get his affairs arranged here and join us.”  
“I’m not convinced that Mr de Cunliffe would be eager for him to stay at his estate,” Ilsa commented, raising her eyebrows at her friend who blushed into her tea cup.  
“What Colonel Strike does is no concern of ours,” Venetia remarked, “He has very few connections, and a dreadful background really.”  
The others regarded her slightly shocked.

“What? I have said nothing out of sorts….it is common knowledge that his father is Lord Rokeby and that he has never accepted him as his own. Don’t look at me like that! We all know that means however pleasant and handsome he might be he has no hope of making a good match!” and Venetia bit down frustratedly on a piece of sponge cake.

Nicholas Herbert winced slightly, “There may well be questions over his parentage, but the man is a hero….decorated to the hilt in battle. Good Lord, the Brigadier was telling me some of the tales of him last night…..I shouldn’t like to cross him!”  
Stephen chipped in at this point, “Seemed like a very definite presence to him, and I’ve only seen him for a few moments. Certainly seemed like the sort of man I’d be happy to have looking after my sister!” he added.  
“You haven’t met Matthew yet! And he has a thoroughly respectable background….and he’s handsome….and he’s tall….and….” at which point Venetia trailed off, noticing a slight pout on Ilsa’s mouth.  
She raised her eyebrows at her friend who quickly calmed her features into a more kindly and encouraging expression.

“Well, I’ll give him the once over!” Stephen smirked, “But I have to report back to father with and I quote, ‘Your honest opinion mind, don’t gussy him up …..and ignore what your sister says’!”  
Venetia blinked slowly and shook her head while the Herberts laughed.  
“Father will let me marry whoever I choose!” she stated bluntly.  
“He absolutely will…..as long as you choose someone he thinks is worthy of his little Robin!” Stephen grinned, winking as a smile broke out on his sister’s pretty face.

_______________  
Strike took his bad mood out on his front door, and then the door to his study; which he slammed forcefully before dragging his hands through his hair as if trying to physically rub his mind free from images of Miss Ellacott.

“What is it Shanker?” he rumbled upon hearing the door unlatch.  
“I wanted to let you know that I’ve sent out some enquires about properties in the north, Sir. I spoke with a few of the other valets and butlers and they knew of a few inparticular. There is one called Shipley Grange that seems possible, and another called Tabley House that seems suitable by their accounts….and is vacant at present,” he noticed the slight perk to his master’s chin at the mention of the second property.  
“It is known to a friend of mine….he mentioned it earlier. I’m particularly interested in that estate Shanker. Let me know as soon as you receive any details,” the Colonel stated.

“Are you dining in or out this evening, Sir?” Shanker asked, busying himself arranging the newspaper and cards from callers on his master’s desk.  
Strike puffed out his cheeks and exhaled, noting that Lady Sarah Shadlock had left her card amongst others.  
“I’m out…..again!” he groaned. “Some evening function, there’ll be food later…..and dancing!” he furrowed his brow and avoided the raised eyebrow of Shanker.  
“Full evening dress then? Hmmmm…..bloody dress shoes…..you struggle with ‘em!” he glared.

The Colonel flexed his neck and sighed loudly, “I do! I could go in military apparel instead…..then I can wear my boots,” he almost thought outloud.  
Shanker nodded and pressed his lips together, “Good idea, Sir! I’ll go and get polishing!”

Strike reached across, rather than move to the desk itself, and flicked idly through it.  
He noticed that there was an article about Matthew de Cunliffe; or at least one which contained a great number of quotes; none of which actually said anything of note!  
The rest of his post was mundane information, invitations and some banking information relating to an investment which had been successful.  
He’d made money as he slept!

He sauntered across to one of the bookcases in the property.  
His own extensive collection of books were mainly in storage – the shelves of this library were well stocked upon his arrival, and there were a multitude of books which were new and interesting to explore.  
He selected one, ‘The Female Quixote’ and enjoyed the first few chapters, despite a slight annoyance with the character of Arabella – how could a woman of substance, intellect and breeding honestly believe that what happened in romantic novels was mirrored in reality!  
Still, he settled and raised his right leg and read more, a glass of sherry his companion.

____________  
Back at the Lawrence’s home, Venetia and Stephen were sitting in the company of his in-Laws – the ladies busying themselves with needlework whilst the men discussed Stephen’s business (he was becoming more and more involved in the overall running of the Ellacott mill in Keighley) and he was eager to reassure his wife’s parents that he was financially secure.  
“We are at the Hogarth’s this evening Stephen. You’ll join us I trust,” Mrs Lawrence stated rather than asked.  
“Of course, Madam. I’m eager to make my acquaintance with some more of Venetia’s…..friends!” he raised a quirked eyebrow mischievously at his sister who glanced and saw she was unnoticed, and stuck out her tongue at her brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter is being posted today - we have a 'sort of' ball!


	11. A well placed mirror indeed!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are at the ball. there are some delicious descriptions of Colonel Strike in his gear - think TB playing Dolokhov for the exact tightness of those breeches!  
> Matthew is pantomime villain vile again!!

The Hogarths were London society of the recent, political sphere.  
Their money was new and as such their home and parties reflected this – money was lavished around to try to add that level of acceptance and belonging that a title can automatically ensure.  
Venetia arrived on the arm of her brother, looking incredibly pretty in a gown of the palest pink silk and chiffon.  
The bodice was very low cut, revealing her shapely bosom, but the chiffon ruffle along the neckline added a degree of modesty, although her brother had still vowed to ‘Punch the nose of anyone whose eyes focus on there for too long!’

She had come eager to dance and knew that the frock would show off her assets in the best possible manner…..however, the main reason for her choice was that her most comfortable dancing shoes were a pair of pink leather slippers – her bosom would just have to control itself as best it could!

She scanned the crowd – the Hogarth’s parties were always popular affairs due to the ridiculous expense and enormous quantity of food and drink on offer – she noticed Matthew de Cunliffe.  
His stature meant that he was generally easy to spot, and his reddish hair stood out this evening as it was slicked into a rakish quiff. He was standing in the midst of a rapt crowd who were as usual, hanging onto his every word and allowing him centre stage.  
She motioned to her brother that they should cross to the group and he guided her through the throng, her gloved hand resting lightly on his arm.

“Miss Ellacott! How remarkably fine you are looking this evening,” Matthew purred upon their arrival.  
Venetia felt a tension to her brother’s arm as Matthew’s eyes travelled instantly and lingered exactly where a gentleman’s eyes should not linger for not just a fraction too long…..for considerably too long.

Stephen cleared his throat as Matthew continued to make far too much of greeting his sister and kissing her hand.  
“May I introduce my brother? Mr Matthew de Cunliffe, this is Mr Stephen Ellacott, my eldest brother and the son-in- law of Mr and Mrs Lawrence,” she explained.  
Stephen bowed crisply, noting that Matthew did not extend his hand – although he knew from experience that this was not often a greeting used outside the north of England where business connections often fed into social connections.

He instantly disliked Mr de Cunliffe.

There was no way his sister was marrying him!

 

After a polite amount of conversation Stephen suggested they circulate and greet others, including his in-laws who had arrived separately to them, and slightly reluctantly Venetia accompanied him.

Much as she was witty, intelligent and independent in many ways, it was still rather flattering to have men giving you admiring glances and attention!

They wandered through into a quieter room and found Mr and Mrs Lawrence, and Venetia also noticed Mrs and Mrs Herbert in a close group.  
She asked for whispered permission to be excused after indicating to Stephen where she was headed.

Ilsa looked as attractive as ever in a white gown with pearl trim and blue flowers in her fair hair, which was beautifully styled into soft waves and curls across her head. Her husband, Nicholas, looked fetching in cream breeches and a deep, burgundy coloured coat.  
Venetia noticed for the first time that he had remarkably shapely and muscular legs and the fabric of his breeches and hose clung rather nicely to show off his lean, slender form.

They chatted amicably about who they had seen and who was wearing what.  
They made wagers as to what remarkable food stuff would be served – last year it had been rose scented Turkish Delight, the year before they had produced ices; which although more common place these days had been a revelation at the time!

Through in the ballroom the first song was being played to introduce that the dancing would commence.  
Stephen came across to ensure that the first dance his sister shared would not be with Mr Wandering Eyes de Cunliffe.  
The Herberts accompanied them to the large, wooden floored room which looked very beautiful lit by a myriad of candles which glittered and reflected off the various mirrors and silver vased floral decorations.  
The introduction music came to an end and the couples took their places as the opening bars of the first dancing song struck up.  
It was a traditional reel with long lines of couples who would move and work in 8s.  
Ilsa and Nicholas along with 2 other familiar couples formed Venetia’s 8, with her leading with Stephen in the first couple.

The dance contained quite a lot of skipping steps, which made Venetia’s hair and creamy bust join in with a unique dance of their own, however, she danced so lightly and well that the overall effect was of girlish joy rather than seedy, sexual impropriety.

Venetia enjoyed dancing, and she had danced with her brothers for years.  
Nicholas was an exceptional dancer too, and the parts of the dance requiring her to join him as a partner were enjoyable – his hands were warm but not clammy and he led her gently but firmly into the correct figures and movements.  
So absorbed in enjoyment was she that she hadn’t noticed the arrival of a tall, scarlet jacketed gentleman who was almost stalking the ballroom in an effort to not permit her to disappear from his view.

At a later point in the dance, when the first couple was required to mark time she was clapping with delight and watching Ilsa and Nicholas create a canter down the centre space and felt the dark eyes of Colonel Strike on her. 

He was leaning languidly against a marble pillar, his booted ankles crossed over lightly, toying with a goblet of wine in his fingers.  
His eyes were slightly narrowed at the sight of her dancing with ‘that man’ again, but he was quickly transfixed by her joyful energy.  
The shoulders of his red jacket created even more width to his already impressive physique.  
His waist seemed quite impossibly slim by comparison, and the sight of his muscular thighs, barely encased within almost obscenely tight, cream breeches made her lip tremble slightly. Especially when he almost imperceptibly raised one dark, sultry eyebrow at her and took a sip from his wine, pressing his uneven lips together beneath his dark moustache and releasing them in an almost kiss.

Venetia almost missed her cue to join back in the dance, and tried to concentrate on the rest of the movements although she was slightly side tracked by trying to locate the Colonel in the crowd.  
By the end of the dance he had vanished and Venetia felt a little deflated. 

She numbly followed Stephen as he led her towards refreshments. She took a glass of wine punch and sipped the sweet liquid waiting for her breathing to return to normal following the exertion of the dance.

The Herberts had wandered into the main foyer which was slightly less crowded and cooler by now and noticed the Colonel who was in conversation with several older gentlemen, several of whom Nicholas knew to have dealings with either the army or banking.  
The Colonel noticed his friends and excused himself, striding across to greet them.  
“Mrs Herbert, you look very well this evening,” he gave his trademark, curt and precise bow combined with raising her bare fingers to his lips for a warm, dry graze of his lips to her knuckles.  
“Colonel Strike, how do you do this evening?” Nicholas asked, shaking hands with his friend warmly and indicating his choice of footwear. “I take it from your attire that you do not care for dancing!”  
“On the contrary, I take a great of pleasure in dancing; although as an observer these days thanks to this thing,” and he slapped his right leg with his palm.  
“How sad to not be able to participate in dancing anymore,” Ilsa remarked, shaking her head woefully.  
The Colonel laughed heartily at her concern, “I can assure you madam that my inability to participate in a reel is small concern given that I escaped with my life a situation where many others did not. I am thankful indeed….and often it can be infinitely more pleasurable to watch…and certainly less exhausting!” he waggled his eyebrows slightly and she found herself naturally laughing back at him.

Nicholas saw Venetia and Stephen first, the Colonel having his back to them as they joined the foyer, their refreshments completed.  
“Ah, Mr Ellacott, allow me to make introductions,” Nicholas called across.

Cormoran froze, Mr Ellacott?  
Surely not her father?

He turned as he felt bodies approach and steeled himself for the vision of loveliness that he’d observed dancing, but his vision was instantly drawn to the gentleman beside her.  
It was HIM, that man, the one from the Herbert’s hallway, the one she was dancing with.  
He looked imposing and with the level of authority that implied either marriage or a family relationship.

“Colonel Cormoran Strike may I introduce you to Mr Stephen Ellacott, Venetia’s brother,” Nicholas stated.  
Stephen Ellacott flicked a slight double take at the impressive height and stature of the man clad in immaculate military attire.  
He noted the extended hand and shook it, returning the strength and sincerity of the handshake.

He was her brother!  
A flash of relief and mild amusement at his own false conclusion surged through him.

“Mr Ellacott, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he turned his attention briefly to Venetia, “And Miss Ellacott, it is always a pleasure to see you again.”  
Stephen Ellacott noted how the Colonel’s eyes remained fixed upon his sister’s own blue-grey ones as he took her hand and raised it to his lips.  
She wished that she wasn’t wearing gloves, but the warmth of his touch was still evident through the fine leather.

Stephen also noticed his sister’s chest heaving slightly again, like she had been doing after the dance, but her breath had returned to normal….or so he thought!

“Colonel Strike. Highly decorated I see,” Stephen Ellacott cast his eyes across the scarlet jacket and epaulettes.  
The Colonel inclined his head fractionally, dragging his eyes away from Venetia.  
“He’s just accepted a commission up in Catterick too, so he’ll be continuing to add distinction to his career no doubt,” Nicholas added heartily.

Stephen noticed a slight blush to the Colonel’s cheeks, but he remained erect and did not try to admonish his companion for his comments.  
It was pleasing to Stephen – this was a man who was both confident and proud of his achievements but not so much as to appear cocky.

“I fear this may put paid to that, but….I shall endeavour to impart my skills to the next generation of cadets,” the Colonel stated, again indicating his right leg as he spoke.  
“So you sustained an injury?” Stephen enquired.

Venetia’s eyes were roving across the Colonel’s body again.  
At close quarters the fabric of his breeches was tantalisingly tight, and having torn her eyes away she had realised that his back view was reflected in a large mirror.  
His buttocks were perfectly sculpted and visible due to the cropped length of his jacket, his slightly off centred balance was, with his weight held mainly on his left leg, showing a definition in the crease of fabric below his pert backside and Venetia found that her mouth had fallen open slightly as she stared at the image and had to shake her head away to focus back on the end of the discussion, her brother looking impressed by his summing up:  
“….and so after a great deal of rehabilitation it is as strong as it will become, but a small price to pay,” and he inclined his head to signify he was finished telling his tale.

So rapt in the conversation were the others, and so rapt in the sight of Colonel Strike’s rear was Venetia, that nobody noticed the arrival of Matthew de Cunliffe.

“Miss Ellacott, may I request this dance?” he held his hand and stood almost facing Colonel Strike, as if daring him to intervene.  
Stephen, Nicholas and Cormoran all noticed and flexed their hands into fists at the sight of de Cunliffe almost leering over Venetia’s decollete.  
She naturally accepted his invitation – it really wasn’t the done thing to refuse when the offer was from an acceptable and suitable gentleman when one was a single female!

She danced. 

De Cunliffe enjoyed the admiring glances from other men as he partnered her and continued to consider whether she would do as a wife.  
She had a little wit and intelligence – that could be worked upon and subdued – he didn’t want or need a wife who thought for herself.  
But she was certainly pretty enough.  
He could show her off and parade her around when needed, and when not needed she could stay at home and look pretty there.  
Yes….maybe she would do.


	12. Quite unladylike language in the library!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the party....Colonel Strike has taken refuge from the dancing.....Miss Ellacott comes across his hiding place by accident.  
> And Lady Sarah Shadlock shows her true colours *cue pantomime style booing and hissing again!

Later in the evening there was a halt to the dancing for food and refreshments to be taken.  
Venetia accompanied Ilsa Herbert to dine on white soup, various savouries and delicious jellies.  
The centre piece of the buffet, and gesture of marvel this year was an enormous display of cheese, containing one of a highly piquant flavour, called Parmesan.  
Ilsa disliked it and wrinkled her nose with displeasure, but Venetia adored the strong, salty taste that lingered in her mouth.

Matthew de Cunliffe was being as attentive as ever towards her, although she found herself wanting to see the dark features of Colonel Strike.  
He had not danced, and she hadn’t seen him since the food was served….perhaps he had left.

She ambled through to freshen herself and took a detour in her return to the general crush of guests, enjoying the relative quiet and coolness of the rooms she wandered through.  
She found herself in a warmly lit library; there was a smell of cigar smoke and some partially smoked stubs in an ashtray.  
She picked one up and inhaled the blackened end, allowing her eyes to drift closed.  
The aroma always made her think of her Papa….it had been a long time since she had seen him.  
She hummed lightly and replaced the cigar butt.

Trailing her fingertips along the shelves she sighed and smiled at the array of volumes.  
She selected one from the shelf and flicked the pages, it was familiar to her; a selection of ancient poems translated into English.  
Venetia allowed herself to relax as she skimmed her eyes across the verses she knew so well.  
She didn’t know how long she stood there, but she was pulled from her reverie by the sound of Lady Sarah Shadlock’s high pitched, annoying giggle which appeared to be heading her way.

Lady Sarah’s company was not what Venetia desired at the best of times, and certainly not when she was enjoying herself in her own solitude!

“Oh hellfire and damnation!” Venetia mumbled outloud and froze as she heard a muffled, masculine snort from behind the drapes.  
Gathering herself she strode across to the location of the noise and pulled aside the floor length drapes, revealing a larger than she expected window seat containing a rather languidly draped Colonel Strike, his legs raised up onto the cushions, bent at the knee with a foot pressing against the wall, a book dangling in his hand; one of his fingers parting the pages deftly. There was also a decanter of port and a plate containing a large piece of the Parmesan cheese.

“Sir! I…..I didn’t know you were there,” she retorted.  
He merely smirked and raised one brow in an arch of amusement, “In my defence Miss Ellacott, on this occasion I had no knowledge of you being there either, until I heard your…..rather brazen outburst.”  
“I was enjoying a moment of quiet reflection,” she explained, indicating the volume still in her hand.  
He noted the title and raised his eyebrows still further, “And I take it Lady Sarah Shadlock would not add to that enjoyment?”  
Venetia grinned and stared into his twinkling eyes, “Not greatly. Oh Lord!” this second statement accompanied a further blast of the high pitched cackle which appeared to be just outside the doorway now.

Venetia glanced around the room wondering if she would be able to avoid an encounter with the blasted woman, but it appeared unlikely to be able to avoid her.  
She felt a firm grip on her arm, gasped, and was hoisted behind the drapes by the Colonel, his other hand deftly smoothing the fabric of the curtains and making them invisible.  
He indicated the end of the window seat where his booted feet were propped up and she sat, noting that her toes were close to the bottom of the drapes, potentially peeking out or rippling the fabric.  
He followed her gaze and met her questioning eyes before flicking his head and mouth in a manner which indicated the cushioned bench.  
She flipped her legs up and rested them along it, smoothing the fabric of her gown quickly to cover her modesty, not before the Colonel had caught a brief, but delicious glimpse of those shapely ankles and a little of her slender, stocking clad calves.

He silently, with a single, raised brow, lifted up the plate of cheese, of which several chunks had already been cut. She took a piece and bit some of the salty cheese into her mouth, allowing the flavour to roll around her tongue. She noted that the Colonel did similar with a larger piece, without biting it in two.  
It felt ridiculously private despite the fact that people were separated from them by only drapes.

On the other side of the curtain Lady Shadlock was in conversation with one of her vapid female companions:  
“Oh she’s pretty, to be sure….but he’ll soon realise that a title trumps beauty!” she hissed.  
The voice of her friend joined in, “An aristocratic title by far outweighs her natural assets, although I must say, Mr de Cunliffe seemed reluctant to drag his eyes away from them this evening, Sarah!”  
“Well….they were certainly out on display for all to see…..with a father who is basically in trade what else has she to offer but her charms,” Lady Sarah cackled, cruelly.  
“She seems quite jolly though,” her friend stated, quietly.  
“I have no doubt that she is….but that isn’t what attracts a man! A title and money….that’s what gets them to the altar!” and the voices faded as they presumably left the room.

Venetia could feel her face burning bright red and kept her eyes firmly fixed upon her pale hands, twisting around the book in her lap.

Colonel Strike had found it difficult to refrain from taking in the full vision of the perfect body within her gown, especially when Sarah had been discussing it so openly. He had dragged his eyes down to focus on the dainty, pink clad feet by his hip.  
They looked unimaginably small, and neat, and perfect, and now that he glanced back at her she looked mortified.

When he was certain the insidious pair had left he cleared his throat slightly:  
“In my opinion she is very much mislead about what gentlemen find appealing in women,” and offered Venetia a small smile.

Venetia did not acknowledge his comment.  
She wanted to run away from him, but was feeling rather light headed and feared she might faint if she attempted to move. 

She managed to shift herself around, and seated properly now on the bench asked, “May I have something to drink?”  
Colonel Strike had only the one glass, but handed it to her and she gulped some of the port, breathing deeply to maintain her composure.  
She handed it back after a few mouthfuls, “I’m grateful to you, Sir.” And she made to leave.

“Must you go?” he whispered gently, his dark eyes roaming her face to try to force her to meet his.  
Venetia briefly looked at him, almost falling into the penetrating but soft stare he gave her, “I think I must. I’ve imposed upon your solitude for too long. And I’m sure my brother will be eagerly searching for me.”  
Colonel Strike nodded imperceptibly, “I’m….I’m very glad he is your brother….when I saw you with him at the Herbert’s……I……assumed….”  
Venetia smiled, adorably, “He is ONE of my brothers….he will accompany me at the end of the week when we start for home……he’s a little overly protective,” she tilted her neck and grinned widely.  
“I shall be sure to keep on his good side then and say nothing of his sister’s quite unladylike language earlier!” he gave a crinkle eyed grin and captured her now gloveless hand in his. “Good evening, Miss Ellacott,” he again grazed the tips of his fingers against her warm palm and deftly twisted her hand in his to deliver a warm, soft press of his lips to the inside of her wrist before sweeping the drapes aside for her to leave.

Venetia walked back to the reverie in an almost daze.  
How was it possible for such a limited amount of contact with a man to stir such ridiculous emotions and warmth in her body?

“Ah, Venetia dearest, shall we make our leave? We can journey back to the house in Mr and Mrs Lawrence’s carriage if your are quite ready to depart,” suggested Stephen Ellacott upon her return to the group.  
“Yes. Yes, let us leave,” she agreed, not wishing to sully the delicious memories of Colonel Strike’s green eyed gaze and the tingling feeling of his facial hair on her fingers.

From his position in the window seat, the Colonel watched as she climbed into the closed carriage.  
He raised the port glass up to his lips and paused fractionally, moving it towards the light and twisting it slightly to find the delicate smudge indicating where her lips had rested.  
His eyes fluttered closed and he inhaled deeply as he covered the same place with his own lips and allowed the ruby nectar to trickle down his throat.

He was doomed!


	13. A much needed linen napkin!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quite a long chapter - I didn't think much was going to happen as I have to fill time before they set off for home and to allow Strike to get his house sorted out....however, quite a lot goes on and it turned out rather more juicy at the end than I planned!  
> There is a final meal in London; Venetia makes it clear that she knows the sketch was left by him.  
> There is a tete a tete in a statue gallery between the Colonel and Venetia.....and that peacock blue waistcoat!  
> I've also got Strike's love of biscuits in there :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was slightly delighted to discover that Masham is sort of in the right vicinity geographically of Keighley and could be a suitable place close to the 'real but in a different location' Tabley House! Nice when that happens!
> 
> *Freshen her appearance being ye olde parlance for having a slash!

The day after the party was a leisurely one, with many of London’s society nursing painful heads.  
In the Lawrence household Venetia took breakfast with her brother; Mrs Lawrence being one of those with a somewhat fragile disposition upon waking.

“So, come along brother. Tell me what you thought of Mr de Cunliffe,” she giggled, buttering toast diligently.  
Stephen exhaled and pursed his lips, “Honestly?” he asked.  
Venetia was a little startled and regarded him through slightly narrowed eyes, “Well yes! But….surely you must approve – he has an impeccable background, he’s handsome, he has a promising career in parliament….surely you approve of my liking him?” she queried.  
“Robin my sweet, what surprises me is your taking a fancy to him in the first instance!” he thrust a forkful of roast beef into his mouth and chewed.

Venetia’s hackles were up.  
“Why wouldn’t I take a fancy to him? He is clearly paying me a lot of attention…”  
“Oh he’s paying certain parts of your anatomy rather a little too much attention my dear girl!” Stephen interjected.  
“And so? He is attracted to me….is that so very bad in a match?” she asked.  
“Venetia, there has to be much more than attraction based on physical appearance in a marriage,” her brother stated, honestly.

Venetia thought about Matthew.  
Then her thoughts veered towards Colonel Strike.

Both men had embedded their images into her memory based on their physical attraction. But she now considered their other characteristics.  
“I am not basing MY decision purely on physical attraction….I cannot honestly govern the reason a suitor would have in their interest in me, can I?” she responded.

Stephen considered her statement; it was true that women had few choices in regards to their marriage, but given that his sister would receive a relatively considerable amount upon marriage, and her unbridled beauty, it was paramount in his, his brother Martin and their father Michael’s power to ensure that she married a worthy gentleman….albeit one that she approved of and if possible loved.

“You have your pick of possible men, Venetia. I don’t disapprove of them all!” he stated, slicing more beef.  
His sister paused, midway to bringing her cup to her lips,  
“What do you mean?”  
“That Colonel chap! Now him, I definitely approve of…and more importantly, there is no possible way I would admit to NOT approving of him,” he shovelled bread into his mouth.  
Venetia stared at him aghast.

“Colonel Strike has no interest in me…..I think I amuse him, but he is far too serious….and not terribly acceptable…..you know about his father?” she gabbled, but her brother merely smiled and continued eating.

His sister continued with her breakfast, occasionally commenting :  
“…and he’s lame!”  
“….and there is a dreadful scandal about him and Lady Charlotte Campbell!”  
“…..and he barely knows me!”

All the while Stephen remained silent…regardless of what his sister said, it was clear that the Colonel WAS interested in her, and he was a damn sight better prospect than Leery Eyed de Cunliffe!

She just needed to realise that.

There were no parties or gatherings planned for the day after the Hogarth’s – London society had learned that to host an event on the following day was to host a half attended event!

The Colonel attended to business affairs.  
He sorted his household accounts and had a meeting with his bank to organise how much he had available for a property in the north.  
Nicholas had spoken with him in more detail about Tabley House, and if the price was suitable he was more than interested in the property.  
He left the bank pleased with the outcome and spent the afternoon writing correspondence to his aunt in Cornwall before receiving a call from Ilsa and Nicholas Herbert.  
He passed a pleasing amount of time with them, discussing nothing of particular note, except for hearing about their journey north in a little more detail.

They would spend two nights in Huntingdon, at the estate of Ilsa’s maternal uncle.  
After which they would travel as far as Newark where they were to spend a long weekend, or 4 nights at one of the de Cunliffe’s properties.  
They would then travel to their own property near Bradford whilst Venetia and her brother would veer off towards Keighley.

Cormoran was slightly envious of them spending so much time in the close proximity to the delightful Miss Ellacott, but he was hopeful that he could renew his acquaintance with her once he was a fellow inhabitant of the north of England.

Venetia spent the day on her own correspondence and preparing some of her personal belongings ready for her journey home.  
She needed to pack trunks which could be sent ahead to Newark, plus one to be ready at Huntingdon, and she needed a small travelling box, plus the majority of her belongings needed to be packed to transport to Keighley.  
In short, there was much to do!

The evening was spent dining in their respective homes.  
The Colonel dining alone and wishing for company, Venetia dining with the Lawrences, and her brother, and wishing for solitude.  
___________________

The next day was a whirlwind of travel preparations for Venetia and the Herberts, whilst Colonel Strike attended a further meeting at the barracks to iron out some specific details of his new posting.  
He took luncheon with some of the gentlemen he had been introduced to at he Hogarth’s party and on a whim, based on his buoyed bank balance from the investment he’d taken part in, went home via his tailor.  
Being used to a life in military dress meant that he had underestimated the number of garments he realistically needed in order to rotate them and maintain a polished appearance.  
His tailor was thrilled to accept a commission for 2 new coats.  
He also added some new shirts and trousers to his order – these items being in stock and simple enough to customise to his tall stature and leg length.  
He was about to leave when he spotted a range of exquisite waistcoats on display.  
“Ahhhh, now those would suit Sir incredibly well,” stated the owner, using that slightly odd ‘third person’ manner of referring to a customer.

One of the waistcoats was a blue-grey shade which instantly reminded him of Miss Ellacott’s eyes.  
Moving this to one side his eye was taken by one in a deep mustard shade and a third in a teal shade, almost the colour of the plumage on a drake.  
“These too,” he decided. “And some gloves…those,” he indicated pairs in grey felt and deep, green leather.  
He found it slightly extravagant to spend such a lot on clothing – he had after all spent most of his military career wearing the same pair of breeches and coat day after day!  
Shanker always said he was making up for lost time when he brought home new items…..but he noticed how carefully his valet tended to his garments….and also how he looked proud when his master was smartly attired for an event.

He had received an invitation that morning which had prompted the purchase of his new wardrobe – Nicholas Herbert had requested his presence at a small, dinner gathering to mark the final evening in town of him and his wife, and of course Stephen and Venetia Ellacott.

Upon returning to his rented property he was greeted by Shanker with more post – this time letters and documents which had been hand delivered.  
“You asked me to inform you as soon as I received information regarding Tabley House, Sir,” Shanker indicated the various papers neatly arranged on the tray he held.  
“Excellent, Shanker, thank you….Oh, and there will be a delivery from my tailor,” he rolled his eyes at the arched eyebrow his valet cast him. “There’s a deep, peacock coloured waistcoat I’d like to wear this evening. Will you pick out something to compliment it please,” and he took the various documents through to the morning room he preferred to study them.

He was immensely pleased with the information supplied.  
Tarporley House would suit him very well.  
It was south of Catterick, meaning he could adjourn to relative quiet when he was not occupied at the barracks.  
It was situated to the north of a small village called Masham, which would supply basic provisions as well as a post office; and would provide additional staff if he chose to entertain at any point.

The house itself was, from the enclosed sketches, substantial without being demonstrative and had a pleasing symmetry to it, with a pair of sweeping stone staircases at the front entrance which pleased him.  
It had 7 bedrooms, a large dining room, a parlour, a music room, a study and a library as well as the requisite rooms for staff in the attics and below stairs.  
It was partially furnished and available immediately at a rather acceptable price.  
He could be a landowner!

Shanker arrived bearing a tray of tea with some of his favourite thick, shortbread biscuits and he indicated for his valet to remain as he munched through one of the biscuits hungrily.  
“Take a look and give me your opinion…..should you like to live here?” he asked his valet.  
Shanker gave him a slightly bemused glance – his master was somewhat unorthodox in his treatment of him as a paid servant!  
“Sir, I’m happy to follow wherever you feel is suitable. But……it’s pretty tasty, Sir,” he grinned, having already perused the details.  
Colonel Strike nodded, devouring a second piece of shortbread and whisking crumbs from his trousers.  
“Send word as quickly as you can that I shall take it. I should like to become resident as quickly as possible. Send on details of my bank and I’ll notify them tomorrow,” he added, a wry smirk on his lips as he ran his eyes across the details of the property once more.  
“Very good Sir. And I’ve taken the liberty of drawing you a bath, Sir,” Shanker remarked.

 

Later that evening, Colonel Strike was making his way inside the Herbert’s home, feeling quite pleased with how things seemed to be slotting into place so well.  
His new waistcoat fitted him beautifully and contrasted against the black of his trousers and the grey of his coat.  
He would be eating a delicious dinner alongside some new and friendly acquaintances, and would be able to cast his eyes over the delicious features of Miss Ellacott once more…….although it also signified the beginning of their separation!

It was indeed a small gathering; just Mr and Mrs Herbert, Nicholas and Ilsa, Mr and Mrs Lawrence, Miss Ellacott, Stephen Ellacott, Colonel Ward and his wife ( who were old friends of Nicholas’ father and mother) there were also two rather pretty, dark haired young ladies, who were introduced as Catherine and Anne D’Arby, and Nicholas’ younger brother, Andrew – who kept flashing awkward and slightly embarrassed glances at Miss Catherine D’Arby whilst introductions were made.

Venetia had dressed carefully, but not outrageously, given that she knew Mr de Cunliffe would not be in attendance.  
She had not considered that Colonel Strike would be invited either, and wished slightly that she had worn a more colourful gown than the dove grey silk she had selected. She noticed with some frustration that Anne D’Arby was wearing a very fetching deep violet gown, and that Colonel Strike’s eyes had been drawn to her upon being introduced.

As the dinner was less formal the gong sounded as soon as the Miss D’Arby’s, being the final guests, had arrived.  
Colonel Strike naturally offered his arm to Anne D’Arby to escort her into the dining hall and Venetia felt a hitch to her breathing as they appeared to be talking lightly, smiling and enjoying each others’ company.  
She was angry at herself for recognising feelings of jealousy.  
What was Colonel Strike to her?  
Nothing!  
She had not sought his attention…..and he wasn’t Matthew de Cunliffe.  
It should be no concern of hers who he escorted into dinner at the Herbert’s.  
The fact that he flashed her an alluringly dark eyed glance and lip curling smile as she was escorted to her seat by her brother should also have been of no concern…..except that it made her sob slightly in her throat.

The table had been arranged as was the convention so that married couples were seated apart, meaning that Colonel Strike found himself deliciously sandwiched between Anne D’Arby and Miss Ellacott.  
Yes……things were certainly slotting into place in his life!

Conversation flowed lightly throughout dinner; the table not so large as to create separate, private discussions; meaning that everyone chimed into the same conversation.  
It covered various topics including the weather, the difficulties with finding and maintaining the services of decent staff, and foreign travel – Nicholas and Ilsa having knowledge of Italy from their honeymoon and both Colonels having visited various places in battle.

Ilsa spoke about the mesmeric artwork they had experienced, especially in Florence:  
“I always feel that an ability to paint and draw shows such a true emotional connection to the world and oneself,” she mused.  
Venetia’s eyes flicked slightly towards Colonel Strike’s at this point, and she noticed that he was toying with his glass and blushing slightly.  
He was steadfastly ignoring Miss Ellacott, not wishing to give away his artistic talents if she had not as yet linked the sketch of herself to him.

“I agree,” he heard Venetia state beside him. “What say you, Colonel? Does artistry have a place in the army?”  
He inclined his head slightly before replying thoughtfully, “The ability to take oneself away from some of the horrors one is forced to behold in battle certainly has a place in the military….whether one seeks to do that via art or ale is down to the individual,” and he lifted his glass of port to down what remained, deftly averting any further intrusions into his artistic merits.

Venetia noticed that Anne D’Arby was being particularly attentive towards Colonel Strike…..and he was returning the attention it seemed.

From the Colonel’s point of view he has trying to maintain a degree of calmness and manners considering the remarkable proximity of his thigh to Miss Ellacott’s beneath the table.  
His senses had been somewhat overwhelmed by the delicious floral scent exuding from her throughout the meal. T  
Turning his attention towards Miss D’Arby meant that he could focus his thoughts a little and gather a degree of control…..and more importantly stop himself from reaching out his hand and caressing it against Venetia Ellacott’s slender leg which was so easily within reach.

The topic of the impending travel plans of several of the group began to be discussed.  
“And are you quite prepared, Miss Ellacott? Are you ready to leave London and all of it’s distractions?” Colonel Ward asked.  
With a shy smile Venetia replied, “I have been fortunate enough to enjoy the many entertainments and distractions London has to offer for quite some time now.”  
“Does that imply that our fair city has nothing left to amuse you?” his wife continued.  
Venetia cleared her throat and felt a blush rise to her cheeks, “Oh far from it! I recently discovered the work of a charming artist, quite by accident, which entertained me greatly.” 

Beside her, Colonel Strike shifted slightly, his weakened right leg veered out at a slight angle and his foot caught Venetia’s left leg in an accidental knock.  
He instantly tensed and glanced apologetically across, but Venetia flashed him a calm smile and he felt a small foot press back against his leg making him shudder and immediately wish they were alone.

Neither shifted their bodies, but all too soon Mrs Herbert stood to signify the ladies should retire through to the parlour.

Colonel Strike utilised his linen napkin to enable him to rise without embarrassment as they left the table and quickly sat down, taking a large gulp of the port which was being passed around.  
He inhaled on a cigar sharply and felt his equilibrium and control balancing now that the tantalising presence of Miss Ellacott was no longer pressing against his mangled leg.

Stephen Ellacott had been closely observing him all evening…..and observing his sister.  
He’d noticed her peeved look when the Colonel was speaking to the female on his other side; he’d noticed that the Colonel had paid close attention to anything that Venetia had said during the discussion and he had noticed that napkin when he stood up!......he’d used the same ploy himself in the past!

Whilst they sipped port and smoked they talked about money, investments, incomes, properties.  
“So you are moving north yourself, Colonel?” Stephen queried.  
Cormoran proceeded to explain about his intention to purchase Tabley House and his position at Catterick Barracks. 

Stephen liked the man more and more.  
He was easy to speak with; interested in the viewpoints of others and the pair had a healthy and knowledgeable exchange about the relative merits of mills versus mines.  
Yes, Stephen would do what he could to encourage his sister to give up on the nauseating de Cunliffe cad and go for this more suitable option instead…..starting now!

“You should follow us up as we travel. If your new home isn’t ready for you we have plenty of room at mine and my wife’s house……and I know Ilsa’s uncle will be more than happy to accommodate you,” Stephen continued.  
“Perhaps Mr de Cunliffe may think otherwise!” the Colonel smirked.  
“Oh him! He’s a bloody politician….he might hate your guts but he’ll be damned sure to be polite enough to you in public!” and he gave the Colonel an arched mischievous brow glare.

After an appropriate period of time the gentlemen rose and went through to join the ladies.  
Ilsa and Venetia were seated on a couch, deep in hushed conversation.  
When the men came through Ilsa’s eyes shot to Colonel Strike….in particular the right leg of his trousers, and he noticed an imperceptible twitch of both her and Miss Ellacott’s lips.

He immediately tensed and flexed his chin; assuming they had been postulating about what his withered leg looked like, rather than their actual conversation about whether it would be possible to slip ones hand inside the flap on a gentleman’s trousers beneath the dinner table (Ilsa assured Venetia it was indeed possible….but required either a lengthy meal, or a lengthy table covering….preferably both!)

The Colonel moved across to Miss Anne D’Arby rather than linger near the other ladies; much to Anne’s delight.  
She was sitting beside her sister, trying to provide a degree of privacy, but propriety to the fact that Andrew Herbert had immediately seated himself beside Catherine.

“I hear that you are very fond of music, Miss D’Arby. Do you play an instrument at all?” he asked.  
And an easy (at least for the Colonel) conversation began during which he was merely required to nod and agree.

Anne was attractive enough; dark haired and brown eyed with slightly thin lips, but the shade and design of her gown was flattering.  
Venetia cast furtive glances in their direction, catching him looking across at her on several occasions; but his gaze did not linger; and there was something of a coolness behind his eyes rather than the warmth he had shown previously.

Venetia was naturally at a loss as to what she could have done to offend him and thought back through their interactions that evening.  
The only consideration she had was whether her brother had mentioned something to him whilst they had been taking their port and cigars.  
She moved across to her brother after a time and bid his confidence.  
“Have you said anything to Colonel Strike?” she asked.  
Stephen regarded her with confusion, “Naturally we have talked, but I have said nothing inflammatory, in fact I invited him to consider accompanying us as we journey north….I even offered him the possibility of residing with myself and Jennifer if his house is not settled by the time he arrives there! Why do you ask?”  
Venetia was now even more puzzled, “No particular reason, other than the fact that he has not sought me out to continue our dinner conversation…..I wondered if I had offended him in some way,” and she twisted her lip, glancing across as he and Miss D’Arby flicked through the range of music manuscripts at the piano.

Stephen smirked slightly, “My dear little Robin, he is entitled to give his attentions to other unmarried young ladies!”  
Venetia twisted and stared open mouthed at her brother, “Are you suggesting that I am jealous? That I would wish him to only be attentive to me? You are wrong…..he just has not behaved as he usually does…..and I did not wish to part on less than amicable terms if I could affect it,” she twerked her chin again, “And it appears that I have nothing to regret, therefore there is nothing I need repair…..so, that is the end of it.”  
Stephen stifled a snigger as his younger sister almost flounced from the room, on the premise of excusing herself to freshen her appearance.

Out of the corner of his eye, Colonel Strike had noticed her slightly sharpened tones towards her brother, and also his apparent amusement.  
From her body language leaving the room it was clear she was frustrated by something…..but it was evidently nothing severe enough to cause her brother concern. 

The evening was drawing to a close, and he began to regret his reaction earlier in the evening.  
He would not see Miss Ellacott for some time.  
He had possibly been rather hasty in the conclusion he had leapt to – no play on words intended in his thought! – and if she had been discussing his leg then surely that was natural given that it was something he had spoken of himself, but was always somewhat vague in his explanations.

He sighed loudly and muffled it as he gave an interested nod of agreement about how opera can be infinitely more enjoyable when one was knowledgeable about the language it was sung in.  
“If you will excuse me, Miss D’Arby. I must quickly attend to something,” he excused himself with his usual degree of politeness and exited the room, heading in the direction of the washroom.

Out in the hallways he paused and considered whether it would be considered impertinent to approach Miss Ellacott on her way back from visiting the smallest room….if indeed that was where she had headed.  
He instead decided that he could linger around the foyer for a short while, and when she appeared could pretend he had only just left the parlour.

The Herbert’s home was a maze of small rooms and connecting hallways on this level.  
He wandered through into a small room, almost like a corridor; which was covered floor to ceiling with books. Through into the room beyond he could see a selection of sculptures and, not having located Miss Ellacott, sauntered through to appraise them.

At the far end of the gallery he spotted Venetia.  
She was stood considering a large marble statue portraying one naked, male form draped across the legs of another; both in the Grecian style.  
The draped body appeared injured at the belly, with the statue portraying quite a detailed image of broken flesh.

The Colonel inhaled and pressed his lips together softly as Venetia’s fingertips toyed with the area of ‘wounded flesh’, her head tilted and lips slightly parted.  
Not wishing to startle her, he made a purposeful step on the tiled floor, the noise alerting her and jolting her back somewhat from her consideration.  
She blushed slightly and swallowed.

“As you see, I truly appreciate art in all it’s forms, Colonel Strike,” she smiled, her eyes twinkling and soft.  
Staring back at her now were the darkly hooded, deeply intense green eyes she had missed.

He took several steps towards her without speaking and without dropping his gaze, noticing that she began to breath more irregularly as he moved closer.  
“I…..I…….I shall miss you, Miss Ellacott,” he almost whispered, lifting the hand which was resting on the cold marble and stroking her slender fingers with his thumb.

Venetia was feeling light headed – the combination of his proximity, the touch of his warm hand on her skin and the overwhelming scent of his spicy cologne mixed with tobacco and wine rendered her momentarily unable to form a coherent thought or movement.  
“I should very much like to renew our acquaintance when I take residence in my new property. Will you visit?” he asked, still clasping her hand and roving his eyes across lightly freckled skin of her exposed neck and shoulders.  
“I should like that,” she murmured, focussing on his hand administering an invisible balm of delight across her own.

Why was it that Colonel’s Strike touch on her skin had such a different effect to that of her brother; or Nicholas Herbert…..or Matthew de Cunliffe?

Venetia was still perturbed about why the Colonel had all but ignored her since dinner, but she raised her eyes to his at last.  
“You should return to the parlour…..I’m certain that Miss D’Arby is awaiting your return eagerly,” she pouted slightly.  
It was all the Colonel could do to hold himself back from wrapping his arms around her waist and proving to her there and then that he cared nought for Miss D’Arby.

Instead he curled his lips into an almost smirk, almost smile and fixed his darkly seductive eyes onto hers, thinking how much they matched the colour of the sky on a stormy day.  
“Miss D’Arby holds no interest for me……whereas you, Miss Ellacott….” he leaned imperceptibly forwards, softening his neck slightly.  
Venetia lowered her eyes to the peacock blue silk of his waistcoat and felt her breathing becoming highly irregular.

His lips grazed the join of her hair to her forehead so minimally she was unsure whether she had felt the contact or whether it was just the warmness of his breath that had resulted in the small sob which emanated from her throat.

“Venetia? Come along dear sister….we must away…..we have an early start in the morning!” Stephen’s voice cut through the tension between the elegant couple in the gallery.  
“You should go,” Colonel Strike panted, “I would not wish to anger your brother.”

On a complete whim she reached out her hand and stroked the tips of her fingers against the richly coloured silk of the Colonel’s waistcoat, “My brother likes you……me, of course, he despairs of!” and she smiled a dimpled grin at his frozen expression before turning and walking out of the gallery.

He realised he had not breathed since her delicate fingers had trailed across his chest and slumped back against one of the marble statues; reaching out to steady himself and realising a split second after it came to rest that his hand was resting of the exposed breast of a reclining Venus.  
He released a slight grunt of irony and allowed his knuckles to whiten as he flexed his palm where it rested…..he told himself it was to cool down, but in truth he couldn’t help but notice that the statue seemed as well attributed as Miss Ellacott in the bodice vicinity.

Eventually…..giving a polite amount of time between their exits…..he rejoined the group in the parlour before departing with a light spirit and the possibility of Miss Ellacott uppermost in his mind.


	14. A shared rolling of eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You may notice the Rating change! I don't envisage things getting any more lurid than this by the way - the final (or rather continuation of the ultimate ending) will be in a separate posting with a very definite E rating - but this will have a few moments like this as the most naughty!  
> I heartily encourage you to join in with lots of pantomime boos and hisses in this chapter - you'll know when!  
> Venetia lets her imagination do a little wandering - in the privacy of her own room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so waking up Colonel is like the waking up scene after the night with Ciara Porter in Cuckoo!

The following day saw the various carriages set out from London, heading for Huntingdon for their first overnight rest at the large home of Ilsa Herbert’s Uncle and Aunt.  
Venetia had slept soundly; visions of her hand engulfed in Colonel Strikes invading her dreams.  
Her fingertips still twitched at the memory of the Colonel’s waistcoat beneath them.  
But of course, she was departing from him and although he would eventually end up in the north, and had openly asked her to visit him, which she had accepted, she would not see him for some days at the very least.  
It suddenly seemed like too long a separation.

 

Colonel Strike had slept incredibly deeply.  
When Shanker woke him by drawing his drapes he was greeted by his master’s ruffled and bed-soft appearance which looked remarkably cheerful.  
“Good morning, Shanker!” he growled, dragging his hand through his disastrous curls and pulling himself up onto his elbows in his crumple covered bed.  
“Are you paying visits today, Sir?” his valet enquired, moving towards his wardrobes.  
Strike sighed deeply and his face fell slightly, remembering that Miss Ellacott was no longer in the town. “I shall go out, but I haven’t the intention of visiting anywhere except the barracks possibly…..but I shan’t wear my uniform.”  
Shanker nodded and began selecting a suitable outfit for his master as he stretched himself, clicked several joints in his knee, hip and shoulder as he rose and peered through the window at the London weather.

Colonel Strike left his home mid morning, cane in hand.  
He intended to walk a little to allow him to relive the delicious interaction with Miss Ellacott in the gallery the previous evening.  
The sensation of his lips gently caressing her forehead and hair made him shiver slightly when he recalled it, and the memory of her fingertips stroking against the silk of his waistcoat made a small groan emanate from his chest.

And now she was on her way north, away from him.  
He had not heard about Tabley House, he hadn’t expected to at this stage, but it meant he was in limbo.  
However, the fresh air and leisurely exercise was invigorating, and the knowledge that he had made his intentions quite clear to Miss Ellacott made him feel easier about their enforced separation.

He had strolled along Rotten Row, paused and bid a good day to several of his new acquaintances from the barracks, and from the numerous parties and gatherings he had attended.  
As he made his way towards the barracks at Hyde Park he passed some of the more popular tea rooms and happened upon Miss Anne D’Arby leaving one such venue, she appeared slightly ruffled and was alone.

“Miss D’Arby, how nice to see you again….forgive me, but are you quite well?” he noticed her slightly flushed cheeks and perturbed expression.  
“Colonel Strike! Oh, goodness, what wonderful timing. I was looking to get a carriage home…..but I seem at a loss as to how one goes about the process,” she looked around and visibly panted.

Colonel Strike offered his arm to Miss D’Arby who absently accepted it.  
He could feel her shaking slightly and glanced again at her face, noticing a slight sheen to her brow and cheekbones.  
“I shall of course assist you in locating a carriage, Madam….but, why are you here alone?” he asked, paying close attention to Miss D’Arby’s features as she replied.  
“I took tea with my sister and we were joined by Mr Herbert and Mr de Cunliffe…..Mr de Cunliffe offered to accompany me….I was being tactful; allowing my sister some privacy with Andrew Herbert…..but he disappeared and I waited inside, but felt rather self conscious and decided to attempt to get a carriage myself…..but having never attempted to do so I am quite at a loss,” she explained.  
Her breathing was calming as she clasped onto Strike’s strong forearm encased as it was in the deep green wool of his coat.

Strike himself ground his teeth at the thought of Matthew de Cunliffe abandoning a female in such a manner.  
He glanced around and caught sight of the man in question surrounded by a group of men, he knew a couple were connected to parliament. They were standing just to the right of the tea room entrance, and if he had bothered to glance across Miss D’Arby’s distress and predicament would have been quite evident to him.

“If you will walk with me, Miss D’Arby, it will be easier to hail a carriage just further along the street,” Colonel Strike adjusted his stride to meet her smaller steps and maintained his concerned glance at the young lady beside him.  
The sheen had left her brow and the flush to her cheeks was beginning to fade as she allowed the capable Colonel to solve her predicament. 

As soon as he was able to he hailed a carriage across, and not feeling it was quite proper to leave her in her still slightly flustered state climbed in after he had assisted her into the open topped buggy.  
Having asked for her address he gave the direction to the driver and gave her a small smile, “Do you feel recovered, Miss D’Arby? I shall see you safely home, if that is acceptable.”

Miss D’Arby was finally able to take stock of the situation she had found herself in.  
The Colonel seated beside her was certainly gallant and handsome, and as she had been introduced to him formally it seemed acceptable to be alone with him, especially as the carriage was open.  
“Thank you, Colonel….you are most kind,” she answered.  
The journey passed in relative ease; the Colonel made polite conversation about the weather and Miss D’Arby answered in an increasingly relaxed manner.  
Eventually the carriage came to a stop outside Miss D’Arby’s parent’s house.  
Colonel Strike climbed down and bid the driver to wait as he assisted Anne D’Arby from the carriage and escorted her to the front door.  
“Good day to you, Colonel Strike,” she smiled politely.  
The Colonel noticed that she had rather pretty eyes when she smiled….but he also recognised that the sight of her did not stir the feelings that consumed him when he regarded Miss Ellacott.  
“I’m glad I could be of service. Good day, Miss D’Arby,” and he gave a courteous bow before instructing the carriage driver to drop him at his own home.

 

Matthew de Cunliffe finished his business in London and packed up to ride north.  
He had watched as Colonel Strike had fussed over Anne D’Arby outside the tea rooms – he’d only left her for a moment, or so he thought!  
His intention was to ride on horseback and catch up with the carriages that had already left and he would be able to overnight at Huntingdon along with the rest of the party.

 

The carriages, including Venetia Ellacott made steady progress and reached the large manor house belonging to Ilsa’s uncle as it was growing dark.  
Servants helped them all to rooms and they busied themselves with hot water for washing as their guests changed clothes and made themselves presentable for a late supper.  
Venetia had spent much of the journey considering her interaction with Colonel Strike the evening before – his words in the gallery, the lingering looks and the glance of his lips against her forehead made her feel a warmth throughout her belly.

 

Part way through supper a late arrival joined them.  
Matthew de Cunliffe made a brief visit to his room in order to change his shirt and jacket and wash his face and hands, and joined the rest of the diners in time for the meat course.  
Venetia couldn’t help but notice his attractive, chiselled features.  
His eyes bored into hers as he was seated at the table, and much to her chagrin she found herself casting furtive glances and smiles in his direction.

Ilsa Herbert observed her reactions and considered her friend’s behaviour…and choice!  
To be sure, Matthew de Cunliffe was handsome and appeared to have many merits; but Colonel Strike certainly had his own, and was considerably better company than the self absorbed de Cunliffe.

After the meal, due to the lateness of the hour, everyone moved into the sitting room together, and Matthew took the opportunity of claiming Miss Ellacott’s arm.  
Stephen Ellacott winced slightly at the man’s attention towards his sister.  
He just didn’t like the man…..couldn’t put his finger on why….just something didn’t sit right about him.

“I happened across one of our mutual acquaintances earlier today,” de Cunliffe stated as Stephen and Nicholas Herbert joined the pair.  
Raised brows signified he should continue his anecdote, “Colonel Strike…..he was being remarkably attentive towards Anne D’Arby of all people! Shouldn’t imagine Mr D’Arby would be too pleased with him flirting with his daughter!” de Cunliffe continued, snorting.  
“And why might that be?” Stephen asked.  
Matthew cast him a look of almost disgust, “Well…he’s a bastard! No father would approve of the likes of him marrying their daughter, surely?” Matthew quipped.  
Nicholas and Stephen tensed their jaws; both at the use of such a term in front of a lady, and also at the implication that Colonel Strike was flirting with another so openly after having been very attentive towards Venetia the evening before.

Venetia herself had not actually heard the expletive Matthew used…..she had become numb after hearing that the Colonel had been with Anne D’Arby again.  
Much as she did not want to know more detail, she found that she NEEDED more information.

“Where did you happen upon them?” Venetia asked.  
“Coming out of the Hyde Park tea rooms….they were walking arm in arm and even took a carriage ride together!” he added, raising his eyebrows to add an almost lascivious quality to the incident.  
Stephen Ellacott noted the swallow and droop to his sister’s shoulders, and also noticed the sneering grin Matthew de Cunliffe gave upon noticing the same.  
He clenched his fist so as to control himself, “Well, for my money, Colonel Strike has certainly proven himself to be a true hero….in my experience that goes a long way in a father’s opinion. Perhaps Mr D’Arby is keen for his daughter to seek out a match where a man’s moral character is prized, rather than his rank and heritage!”

Nicholas Herbert could not prevent the grin that Stephen Ellacott’s comment brought to his face, especially so when he saw the affected look on Matthew de Cunliffe’s face.  
“Well, I daresay he may……although his daughter is rather plain…and old….so perhaps he would settle for any offer for her!” and he laughed loudly at himself.  
“Anne D’Arby is the same age as me,” Venetia commented, raising her brow at the thought that she should be considered old.  
“Ah, but Miss Ellacott, you have a youthful brilliance that defies numerical age,” and he gave her a withering stare which caused her stomach to flutter.  
The shared sigh and rolling of eyes between Nicholas and Stephen was noted by them both, but it was evident that Venetia had fallen for his charm…..more’s the pity!

 

Back in London, the post had brought information much to Colonel Strike’s liking and he instructed Shanker that he should start making preparations for their move to Tabley House.  
He would visit his bank the following day and make arrangements.  
By the time they made the journey the property would be in his name and he would have ownership.

Shanker immediately started the process of organising his master’s belongings – those which could be packed into trunks and transported directly to the property, and those which he would require for the journey.  
“You shall accompany me, Shanker. I will need a valet at the de Cunliffe house as the journey is broken there for a weekend – I’m certain that shooting and possibly riding will be on the cards,” the Colonel mentioned as he removed his coat and waistcoat and loosened his cravat, enjoying the sensation of being able to move his neck freely once more.  
He asked for his evening meal to be served in his study, and he pleasured himself glancing across at his sketch of Miss Ellacott, reading the last of his novel (and frankly despairing of the heroine and her rather shallow view of marriage and men!) and sipping his way through a rather decent bottle of Claret.

 

Miss Ellacott on the other hand spent the evening in the company of Mr de Cunliffe and listened to his stories of parliament, his stories of his parents home and his exploits at boarding school. It enabled her to consider her current feelings towards Colonel Strike.

She was frankly shocked that after what she considered a clear declaration of his interest and intent towards her the previous evening he could be parading himself around with Miss Ann D’Arby only a day later!  
But she couldn’t shift the image of his smouldering eyes from her mind!

She paid more close attention to Mr de Cunliffe on the premise that he was handsome and would banish her thoughts of the Colonel….although in truth she simply found herself comparing the two men – Colonel Strike had more attractive eyes, with more warmth and depth to them; but Matthew de Cunliffe had an infinitely more attractive profile, his nose being straight and slender. Their builds were not at all alike – the Colonel’s width and broadness meant that he had an overwhelmingly masculine presence; whereas Matthew’s more slender frame gave him a more refined and elegant nature.

She then gulped as she realised she had begun to consider which of the two men would be the most skilled at the range of activities Ilsa Herbert had described to her in detail following her honeymoon.  
She shook away the thought before a blush spread across her cheeks.

However that evening, alone in her room she allowed herself to consider the question again.  
Closing her eyes she could imagine both men leaning in to kiss her lips, she could imagine them both burying their lips in the softness of her breast, she could even imagine both men pressing above her as Ilsa had described….but she could only imagine one tousled head crawling down her body to apply his lips to her most delicate area.  
In her imagination she saw his green eyes and off centred lips curling upwards at her and she gasped as she realised she was incredibly damp between her legs.  
It would be improper to continue in her current thoughts….but she found herself unable to erase the image of Colonel Strike’s tongue reaching out deliver a tantalising lick to the place where she now pressed her tentative fingers and sobbed into her pillow as a wave of delight flooded through her.

…and yet he was paying his attentions to another.  
Panting and attempting to steady her breath she blinked away Colonel Strike from her mind and told herself that she would replace those thoughts in future with ones of Mr Cunliffe.


	15. Most ungentlemanlike behaviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, so, I actually had to make a note of who was where at each point because we have 2 different journeys north....it's all a bit complicated, but necessary!  
> Matthew continues to be a ye olde slime ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to want to throw things at Venetia at her inability to see through Matthew!

Shanker was eager to get his master out of the house the following day and almost insisted that he dine out for luncheon after visiting his bank so that he could arrange trunks and sort through the Colonel’s private belongings.  
As the house was furnished there were only a few items, but many of the objects in Cormoran’s study and bedroom were his own and would need packing.  
Plus there was the vast array of clothing to sort through.  
He needed to ensure his master had enough clothing to do him proud at a large, country house – where there would be other valets and maids.  
His own reputation lay upon the turn out and appearance of his master – and his dodgy parentage already put him a few steps down the ladder!  
However, the fact that his master was built like the side of an outhouse and had a surprising ability to make women (including chamber maids) swoon – despite his somewhat unorthodox appearance as far as Shanker was concerned! – meant that Shanker was fairly high up the pecking order overall.

Strike finished business with his banker and dined at the Hyde park barracks, having been detained by Miss D’Arby before reaching it the previous day.  
He was bid a hearty farewell by the various ranks he had become acquainted with, he was an incredibly likeable man, and made his way back to his rented property, although upon approaching he barely recognised it…..there was a flurry of activity and Shanker was barking orders as if HE was the Colonel!

“Oh, good afternoon, Sir,” he offered upon noticing his master’s arrival.  
Cormoran grinned with a single arched eyebrow, “Where might I be least inconvenient Shanker?”  
“The morning room is relatively untouched, Sir. I can have some tea sent up.”  
Colonel Strike made his way inside, skirting around the various boxes, crates and trunks littered across the foyer and landings.  
He closed the doors to the morning room, and the flurry of activity, behind him and made himself comfortable on the chaise.  
He reviewed the paperwork connected to his new property and made a list of issues he needed to potentially resolve – based on the layout of rooms provided for him he did not like the position of the master bedroom and considered how he might instead utilise one of the others in such a way as to meet his requirements.  
He drifted into a nap at some point, Miss Ellacott as portrayed in his sketch came alive in his dreams.  
He saw her honey-gold hair tumbling around her shoulders, the fluid folds of the gown he had drawn barely covering the curves of her soft, supple body.  
Something jolted him awake.  
He groaned at the firmness in his groin and turned his attention to the tray of steaming tea and plate of biscuits beside him. 

He spent the evening eating alone; a copy of Les Liasions Dangereuses as company.

__________________  
The travellers had rested in Huntingdon for the day whilst the Colonel was busy packing.  
A pleasant bed and some gentle exercise walking in the grounds of the manor were very much appreciated, and although nothing much transpired, it was a respite from the jolting sway of a carriage.  
Mr de Cunliffe was attentive to Venetia, as always, but was also somewhat side tracked for a large portion of the day by a large amount of correspondence.

The evening meal was lengthier and more sedate than the one on the previous evening, and Ilsa’s uncle had invited a large number of local land owners and friends. Several could play the piano, and the group indulged in a few impromptu reels and dances, Venetia was partnered by her brother on one occasion, and by Matthew de Cunliffe for the other dances.  
He was indeed a fair prospect when he was being so carefree and attentive.  
____________________

The following day, Colonel Strike set off alongside a covered carriage bearing some of his clothing trunks, and Shanker.  
They made steady progress keeping to the main routes.  
The Colonel however had always intended to ride on ahead and overnight at an inn somewhere near Stamford, which would mean he could then cover the distance to Newark to meet up with the rest of the group; in particular Miss Ellacott.  
He intended to take advantage of the weekend entertainments and would accompany the group on the rest of the journey once his carriage, trunks and Shanker had caught up.

 

Meanwhile, Miss Ellacott had spent her day travelling onwards again.  
North bound for Newark, and an extended and most welcome break in the journey at one of the country estates belonging to the de Cunliffe family.

She mused on the concept that sitting and doing nothing at all for a day was in many ways more tiring than one spent in plentiful activity.  
The momentum of the carriage often made her nap, or made one of her companions do the same.  
Frequently the journey was silent – having amused themselves with nothing other than sitting in a carriage they found they had very little to say once the usual enquiries as to whether they had all slept and dined well had been exhausted.

Matthew de Cunliffe spent some of the journey sharing her carriage, alongside Mr and Mrs Herbert, but for the final section of the journey he had travelled on ahead on his own mount; meaning that he could cover the ground more quickly and ensure the house was ready for their arrival some time later.

It was again dark when they drew up outside the enormous house.  
The darkness may have added an additional air of sinisterness to the building, but it was almost eerie in feel.  
Once inside it was a little better, although the large number of dark furnishings and enormous oil paintings did little to cheer up the overall feeling of gloom.

A myriad of staff escorted people to their rooms, whilst the servants travelling with Mr and Mrs Herbert established themselves in their own rooms at the top of the house.  
Venetia’s personal maid, who had assisted her whilst she lived in London would arrive tomorrow, so for this evening she was at the mercy of one of the de Cunliffe staff.  
Her packed trunk of clothes had already arrived and been carefully arranged in the comfortable room she was installed in, and she was grateful for the steaming water awaiting her so that she could disrobe completely and cleanse herself thoroughly before dressing in the gown which a maid, whose name was Clara, had set out for her.

The main focus for everyone was in eating the well prepared food and downing enough wine to ensure a decent night’s sleep; all knowing that they could have a more leisurely morning and recover from the travelling.

Miss Ellacott was escorted into the dining hall on the arm of Matthew de Cunliffe, and he seated her next to his own place.  
It was a relatively small group – Matthew explained that larger diners had been planned for the next few days entertaining, but due to the fact that everyone had been travelling all day they had kept numbers this evening to just their immediate group plus a couple of Matthew’s local acquaintances; including a married couple called Mr and Mrs Barton, a gentleman by the name of Arthur Harrow whom Matthew had been to school with, an older gentleman called Charles Edwards who was a magistrate and 2 young ladies called Helena and Arabella Glenville who were some sort of cousin to Matthew and were residing in the house currently with their parents Mr and Mrs Glenville (the reasons for their own lack of property were never fully explained, but it was certainly pleasing to see that the de Cunliffe family appeared to support their family.)  
Talk around the dining table was about the following day’s entertainments.  
The gentlemen would be out shooting, and if the weather was fine the plan was to combine this with a ride.  
One of the best shooting spots for grouse was a little further away from the house; the gamekeeper could set up the apparel and the gents could ride across, allowing an opportunity for the ladies to join in the ride.  
Everyone was pleased with the idea; Venetia especially so since she had purchased a very fine riding habit in a rich, green velvet prior to leaving London.  
She had not as yet worn it, but knew from the final fittings that it was exquisite and favoured her figure immensely.

“You will join us in the ride, won’t you Miss Ellacott?” Matthew whispered, his glittering, hazel eyes boring into hers.  
She became acutely aware of his proximity to her as she answered.  
“I would certainly like to, Mr de Cunliffe. I do enjoy fresh air and exercise when the scenery is so spectacular as I believe it to be around the estate,” she replied, flashing a small smile his way.  
She noticed that his eyes slipped to her lips and then down to the cleft between her breasts, visible at the neckline of her gown.  
She also noticed that he clasped his lip in his teeth and maintained his gaze at her chest for just a little too long for it to feel comfortable. 

“I should very much like to show you some of the more hidden spots on the estate,” he hissed, raising his eyebrows, “I know of a great many interesting routes and places where we could spend time….alone.”  
Venetia was shocked.  
For a gentleman to suggest a private liaison with an unmarried female was shocking enough; but to do so at the dining table, where the female concerned could not make an excused exit meant that she was forced to respond to the proposal.  
“I am sure there are some who would find that an attractive proposition, Sir, however I shall enjoy the company of my friends and discover the beauty of the scenery alongside them,” she tried to keep her voice calm and measured.  
“Really? Nobody need know…..I can maintain secrecy,” and she felt a hand slide across her thigh beneath the table, it slid up towards the crease of her hip.  
She felt his fingers delve towards her inner thigh and she quickly stifled the urge to shout out as she repositioned her legs, causing him to catch his knuckles against the table painfully as he withdrew his hand.

Venetia was thankful that the ladies rose to retire at this point – Ilsa Herbert taking the role of initiating the signal.  
Stephen Ellacott, who had been seated at the other end of the table caught his sister’s slightly flushed cheeks and pouting expression and glanced back at Matthew de Cunliffe who was staring steadfastly at the wall, sucking in his cheeks.

He disliked the man enormously!

Venetia steadied herself in the parlour with a glass of sherry and regained her composure; however, she couldn’t quite reconcile her feelings towards what had occurred.  
How was it that Matthew de Cunliffe sliding his hand along her thigh had made her freeze and recoil, whereas Colonel Strike’s touch and lips on her skin had made her almost fall into his embrace?

It was all too confusing!

The gentlemen joined them for a short period, Matthew de Cunliffe gave Venetia a wide berth, although Stephen did not, and he inserted himself into Venetia’s conversations never leaving her side; he even accompanied her to her room door.  
“Sleep well dearest,” he smiled, kissing her sweetly on the cheek. “You have been a little quiet this evening. Maybe some respite from travel will help.”  
Venetia kissed him warmly back, “I am sure it shall. I am rather tired and aching from being in the carriage….and I am eager to see Papa, and Mother of course. It feels like we are closer to them now, and somehow it makes me miss their love more,” she explained.

Stephen was about to leave her when she thrust out her hand and grasped his forearm,  
“Will you stay close to me during the ride tomorrow, Stephen?” she gasped, and swallowed quickly.  
Her brother was touched; his sister was clearly just missing home….of course she would be after such a long separation.  
“Of course I will dearest girl. Now, sleep well,” and he squeezed her hand before making his way further along the corridor to his own room.

Venetia did sleep, although her thoughts drifted on more than one occasion to Matthew’s advances towards her at dinner.  
She couldn’t help but feel his behaviour was most ungentlemanlike.  
However, she also reflected on her own behaviour towards him in London; she had certainly flashed him amused smiles and giggles, and she had sought out and accepted his attention on numerous occasions.  
Maybe she had misread his meaning earlier…..maybe he had just wanted to make her feel comfortable in his home….maybe he had intended to clasp her hand rather than her thigh…..maybe his hand had slid across her frock in search of it?  
Maybe….  
________________________

Colonel Strike had located a respectable inn just outside Stamford itself and took advantage of the opportunity to bathe.  
He ate a hearty meal and enjoyed the reverie and atmosphere in the public area of the inn so much that he remained there for the evening, drinking a decent amount of wine, which along with the exercise and fresh air that day ensured he slept soundly in the unfamiliar surroundings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised a wet shirt chapter....and it is up next!


	16. Mmmmmmmmm!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several people asked for a wet shirt scene....so ENJOY! I've thrown in wet breeches too for good measure!  
> However, Ilsa tell Venetia about Matthew's dealings with ladies of ill repute too - whilst they relieve themselves in the bushes.  
> The green dress makes an appearance too - in the form of a poison-green velvet riding habit!  
> There's a little nod to Gone with the Wind too ;)  
> The hiccupping giggle is Keira Knightly on seeing Darcy's home in P & Prej

The following day saw the carriage occupants make a leisurely effort at readying themselves.  
Breakfast seemed to only be completed at gone 11 o’clock.  
Venetia had lingered in her room until she heard familiar noises – Ilsa and Nicholas Herbert’s voices to be precise – before venturing out into the maze of landings, hallways and staircases which needed to be traversed before locating the breakfast room, a different but equally impressive dining hall (the main one already being prepared for a lavish evening reception.)

She had dressed in the rich, butter coloured gown designed to fit perfectly beneath her green, velvet riding habit.  
Matthew de Cunliffe greeted her cordially, and she forced herself to offer him the olive branch and give him the benefit of the doubt.  
He noticed her change in demeanour instantly and altered his own to reciprocate her smiles.  
“I do so hope that we shall all be riding as planned?” she asked.  
“Of course, Miss Ellacott. I have asked the stable hands to prepare us all mounts…I trust you are eager to join us?” Matthew continued.  
Stephen Ellacott had joined the gathering at this point, “My sister is an excellent horsewoman Mr de Cunliffe, I am sure she’ll out gallop us all!”

____________________

Colonel Strike had set out early from Stamford.  
Riding was quite taxing on his leg, but providing he kept trotting to a minimum and didn’t ride at full gallop for extended periods he had enough skill to be able to release his right leg from the stirrups and ease the ache in it.  
Plus, the bonus of knowing that he would see Miss Ellacott again later that day significantly helped his progress.

______________________

Venetia’s appearance in the foyer of the de Cunliffe palatial home elicited gasps from several, and admiring stares from the rest of the company.  
The poison – green velvet hugged her form closely.  
The neckline was shaped in such a manner as to expose a small amount of her neck and chest, but the bodice was covered with intricate frogging work in black which seemed to swirl around the shape of her breasts and almost enhance their natural shape.  
She wore a matching deep green hat, rather like a masculine top hat shape, but the addition of a swathe of black netting, fastened up at the rear band meant it could never be confused with a piece of male headwear.  
She nonchalantly added a pair of snug fitting kid gloves, fully aware of how alluring she looked and secretly wishing that Colonel Strike was there as well as Matthew de Cunliffe.  
He was giving her the expected desirous looks, but she would have enjoyed comparing them to those from the Colonel!

The group all followed Mr de Cunliffe and some of his staff to the stable block and the men set about mounting up as the ladies were assisted via the mounting block to settle themselves side-saddle.  
Venetia had been allocated a rather beautiful chestnut horse that had exquisite musculature.  
She circled it as she waited for Ilsa to mount up her grey.  
Together they walked out to join the gentlemen, Stephen sidled his horse alongside Venetia and they made a merry group as they sedately exited the block and more formal gardens close to the house.

“We’ll take this track around, then cross over the field as far as the hedges and cut through, the shooting posts will have been set up, and ladies, should you care to observe I have arranged for seating and shade, plus refreshments."  
Ooohs and aaahhs ensued and Matthew tilted his chin smugly.

“Shall we increase the pace….give these beasts a bit of a stretch?” suggested Nicholas, knowing that Ilsa enjoyed riding and would relish a decent gallop.  
Both Venetia and Ilsa whooped and dug their heel into their horses to spur them on to a decent lick.  
It was an invigorating ride indeed, and the weather being fair made for a pleasant early afternoon of company.

_____________________

Colonel Strike was making good progress, he was managing to cut decent amounts of time and distance off his route by crossing land (sensitively and with caution) and allowing his horse to breathe and rest in accurately calculated periods.  
He paused for luncheon at a village inn and enjoyed being able to remove his coat and cravat and drag cool water through his hair.  
He had ridden through some of the hottest part of the day, but intended to rest at least until early afternoon to avoid forcing his horse to ride through the worst of the hot sun.

________________________

Once the riders reached the hedge and cut through they located the shooting stands and the rather attractive canopy and seating which had been arranged.  
Matthew de Cunliffe had dismounted before her brother and came around to assist Venetia.  
The sensation of his hands clasping her small waist was quite thrilling, and she had to lean her hands onto his shoulders in order to swing down safely.  
The relative safety of her veil meant that she felt able to regard his features at their close range.  
They were very much improved by the fresh air and exercise, and she had allowed herself to once more be under his spell.

The gentlemen arranged themselves and organised their guns and gave their instructions to the hands who would reload.  
Venetia had observed shooting before but was not particularly interested in it as a ‘sport’ – although she did enjoy the cooked game which resulted from it!  
It was warm, even in the shade of the covered canopy, so both Ilsa and Venetia removed their habit coats and sat in their frocks.  
Servants had brought a selection of books, writing materials and a sewing box for their amusement…..both women puffed out their cheeks and regarded the selection….secretly they would have much preferred to either ride on in the shade of the woods or even join in the shooting (both having been taught by Venetia’s father how to handle a pistol!)

____________________________

After a lengthy and restful pause, Colonel Strike remounted and continued on his way towards Newark and the estate of the de Cunliffe family.  
The owners of the tavern where he had refreshed himself had given him details about a route which would mean he should only have a further two hours of riding to go.  
It was still warm, but he knew he would be able to bathe and organise fresh clothing upon arrival.

_________________________

The gentlemen enjoyed some success in blasting grouse from the sky, the dogs bounding and retrieving quite a few birds.

They all paused for a late luncheon, the men relieving themselves in the wooded area before Venetia and Ilsa went off to follow suit, deeper into the undergrowth.

“Mr de Cunliffe appears to be maintaining his attentions towards you…..has he asked you?” Ilsa asked when they were far enough away to not be overheard.  
Venetia blushed rather prettily, “No…he has not made me any offers….although at dinner last night he did make rather a forward suggestion….but I may have misunderstood his meaning….he has been charming today,” she explained.  
“Dearest Venetia……may I share something about him? It is quite shocking I’m afraid,” Ilsa looked concerned and ill at ease.  
“Connected to Matthew? What is it?” Venetia asked.  
Ilsa sighed, “Nicholas told me that he overheard Mr de Cunliffe boasting about a…..conquest shall we say…..one involving payment to a female,” she twisted her lips in her teeth and regarded the colour drain from her friend’s face.

Venetia considered this piece of information.  
By itself it would be shocking, but combined with his lecherous hands under the dinner table it did not paint her beau in a particularly attractive light.

“Well…..he has not made me any offers, so it is possibly not our concern,” she replied, offering a quick smile to her friend which didn’t reach as far as her eyes.  
Ilsa exhaled – she had been wondering how to or even whether to share the information with Venetia, but Nicholas had almost insisted, stating that it was his duty to Venetia’s family.  
He had considered telling Stephen Ellacott the details, but could already see that the man disliked de Cunliffe, and also knew that his opinion was not the one which needed to be influenced.

The ladies located a secluded position and emptied their bladders.  
Venetia took a moment to consider the latest information about Matthew…..so he wasn’t exactly a gentleman at all…..but Colonel Strike was offering his attentions to Anne D’Arby as soon as she left him….she wanted her Papa.

As they rejoined the men, having washed their hands on water and towels provided by the servants, Venetia sought Ilsa’s confidence and suggested that they should ride back to the house at a more leisurely pace; allow the men to continue their sport and they could prepare for the evening entertainment, possibly take a short nap.  
Ilsa thought it a good idea and, after reassuring her husband that they would remain together and knew the route, they were assisted into their saddles.  
Matthew de Cunliffe was too engrossed in advising his loader to be quicker (he’d not managed to bag any of the birds earlier!) and didn’t pay the departure of the ladies any notice.  
“Shall we canter?” Ilsa suggested once they had broken through the hedge and the pair spurred on their horses to reach the other side of the field breathless and exhilarated.

 

Colonel Strike’s horse clattered into the stable block at around 3 o’clock.  
The stable hand informed him that the rest of the guests were out shooting as he dismounted.  
“Would you like to join ‘em Sir?” he asked the tall, muscular gentleman.

Sweat was dripping from his neck, and as he removed his tall hat his hair was stuck to his head.  
“I don’t think I’m particularly fit for company, but THAT looks very welcome indeed,” he indicated the water pump and trough.

The Colonel stripped off his coat, waistcoat beneath and the scarf he had chosen to wear rather than a formal cravat.  
He loosened his shirt partially from within his breeches and strode across to the bucket as the stable boy took charge of his mount, quickly loosening the bridle and saddle to provide relief to the animal.  
A further young stable hand arrived in time to see the Colonel lift the full pail and douse himself in the contents, the cooling water cascading over his sweat soaked curls and down his shirt.  
He watched as the older man refilled the bucket from the pump, effortlessly, and repeated the action.  
The second bucket was colder and caused a sharp intake of breath and a curse word to break free from his lips – causing both stable workers to laugh along with the gentleman – the water splashed down his now drenched shirt and breeches.  
The Colonel threw down the bucket, made a slight roar in his throat and shook his head like a dog to release a flurry of water droplets, some of which caught the sun’s rays and reflected rainbow shards.

All three men were laughing heartily meaning they did not hear the hooves approaching them until the 2 ladies trotted into the stableyard, giggling and sharing some amusing tale.  
Venetia froze, mid intake of breath at the sight before her, but she clearly heard Ilsa Herbert utter the phrase, “Oh my!”

Venetia’s eyes were transfixed upon the sight of Colonel Strike, somewhat informally attired, shaking droplets of water from his hair like crystals as they caught the light.  
She watched as he sniffed deeply and dragged one of his large hands through his hair, scraping it from his face and finally catching sight of her and Mrs Herbert.

“Miss Ellacott!.....and Mrs Herbert, of course…..I……I was told….I’ve just arrived,” he stammered, panting and trying to recover some semblance of propriety, but knowing full well that his shirt was sticking to his chest.

Venetia was unable to make her mouth close, and therefore unable to form words coherently.  
The Colonel’s shirt had been rendered completely transparent by the water and she could make out the dark hair which covered it, adding sculptured shading to the visible musculature.  
His dark, burgundy nipples were clearly standing as hard pearls and she could even see his belly button, and the trail of dark hair which seemed to disappear tantalisingly beneath the band of his breeches.  
She realised that neither she nor Ilsa had replied or spoken and vainly tried to make a statement.

He again dragged his hand through his glistening curls and removed some of the water from his face and beard, wiping his palm against the back of his breeches, which were possibly the least saturated of his garments.

He couldn’t believe his timing!

Nor could he quite tear his eyes away from Venetia Ellacott in order to make himself more presentable.  
She was a vision in poison-green velvet, it clung to her body and outlined her feminine shape beautifully.  
The veiled hat added a softness to her face, and her full lips, which had been parted he noticed since she had entered the stableyard and looked dark and glorious….and like they needed to be kissed......and by someone who knew how to!  
But not sadly by him in his current state.

“Ladies, please excuse me,” and he turned to retrieve his discarded coat and waistcoat, hearing a slight high pitched, feminine whimper as he did so.

Venetia had almost accustomed herself to the sight of the Colonel’s chest, but upon turning to gather up his coat she realised the back view of him was somehow even more powerfully masculine.  
The water had soaked through his shirt and dripped from his hair, and was clinging to reveal the broadness of his shoulders and slimness of his waist, as well as several darkened scars, but it was still tucked into his breeches, meaning that the water had also soaked these.  
Colonel Strikes buttocks were outlined perfectly beneath the cream fabric of his breeches, and presumably his braies beneath them.  
The action of him bending, taking his weight on his left leg, to pick his coat from the bench where he had thrown it showed the muscle tone perfectly, and the high pitched whimper (mainly emanating from Venetia, but a small hitch also came from Mrs Herbert, who although married was still able to appreciate a decently build man) was almost to be expected!

Colonel Strike paused infront of the pair and made his customary bow, “Good afternoon ladies, you’ll excuse me.” and he strode off towards the main house, the slight limp not detracting from his glorious retreating body.

“Damn, damn, damn,” he muttered repeatedly as he made his way to the front of the house, shaking his head ruefully at the footman was waiting to escort the new guest to his room, where his trunk had already arrived and been arranged.

Venetia followed Colonel Strike with her eyes, quite obviously and released a small hiccupping giggle as he turned out of sight.  
“Venetia!” hissed Ilsa, but couldn’t truly bring herself to add the cautionary venom she had felt was needed.  
Instead she returned her friend’s glassy eyed grin. “I think we should go and…..have a lie down.”

“Mmmmmm,” agreed Venetia, sighing and blinking, realising that the images didn’t seem to disappear when she did so.

Both ladies were assisted to dismount and walked in reverent silence towards the main house.

“I think it’s probably a good idea not to tell your brother about ........that,” Ilsa suggested as they mounted the main staircase to their rooms.  
“Mmmmmmm,” agreed Venetia, nodding absently.

“See you later for dinner,” Ilsa commented just before they parted.  
“Mmmmmmm,” agreed Venetia.


	17. A lady with an appetite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of wet shirt-gate, and Venetia (and Ilsa) are still having flashbacks.  
> However, Matthew is being his usual seedy self....thank heavens for her brother!
> 
> Little opening line just for In the eye of the beholder !

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kind of played with the traditional concepts in their reactions to the little smiles - he is the one with a melting heart, she is the one with burning loins rather than vice versa! Why not!

Having spent several hours in a state of delectable contemplation on the merits of a well proportioned masculine body – she still couldn’t quite decide whether broad, defined shoulders or a pair of muscular buttocks was the most delicious – Venetia dressed for the evening entertainment.

Matthew de Cunliffe had invited a great many friends to an evening reception, complete with music, dancing and refreshments.

She dressed carefully in a new, white silk gown with small ruffled sleeves and a low cut, squared neckline. The bodice was close fitting and covered with whorls of peach and bronze coloured embroidery.  
The skirt hung straight down, in a relatively slim fitting style with more fabric at the back due to gathered pleats between her shoulder blades.  
She wore a single pearl droplet on a piece of narrow, cream ribbon around her neck; it nestled between the cleft in her bosom.  
Her hair was styled into cascading ripples of honey coloured curls and she had added a small amount of rouge to her cheeks and lips.

She left her room and made her way towards the noise and other guests on the floor below.

 

Colonel Strike had spent his time in silent mortification!  
He had stripped off his wet clothing upon reaching his room and sprawled across the luxurious bed cover naked, banging his head and fist into the mattress.

Why had he doused himself in water in the stableyard?  
He sometimes still felt like he was out in the company of fellow soldiers on the battlefield.  
The requirements of society often made him feel stifled, but he could punch himself in the face for his appalling timing earlier.

Of all people, it HAD to be her that had happened upon him.  
He must have looked a state!

He inhaled deeply and glanced around at his room, there appeared to be familiar items on a dresser, meaning his trunk had arrive.  
At least he could try to redeem himself this evening….although there was going to be dancing….still, at least he could make his appearance more appropriate.

The servant allocated to assist him selected an outfit from his hung up items, evidently either used to the sight of naked men, or willing to ignore the Colonel's somewhat bizarre behaviour....maybe word had already spread of his impromptu shower in the stables!!

The outfit comprised a pair of full length trousers in dark grey.  
“Isn’t this a reception with dancing? Won’t I be expected to wear something more appropriate?” the Colonel asked, secretly hoping he’d be able to wear the full length trousers to disguise his gnarled leg.  
“Sir, I happen to know that other gentlemen will be dressed similarly; including Mr de Cunliffe,” explained the man as he flicked through the selection of waistcoats and withdrew the sumptuous mustard coloured one he had added to his collection in London.  
He brushed out a navy coloured frock coat and a fresh, crisp shirt and cravat.

Cormoran washed using his preferred soap - in hot water this time - and tamed his unruly hair into an acceptable style. He shaved his cheeks and tidied his moustache and beard before running a drop of cologne across his chin, dragging the remnants through his hair.

He left his room and made his way towards the noise and other guests on the floor below.

Colonel Strike found himself highly distracted by the sight of Miss Ellacott in her finery.

Miss Ellacott was finding it difficult to picture the Colonel in HIS finery….his soaked image kept infiltrating her brain, and she saw flickers of his smart blue coat, but with a dripping, revealing shirt beneath; she saw flashes of his pristine, grey trousers, but equally saw the outline of his muscular thighs and buttocks beneath; even with his jacket covering his posterior.

She was doomed!

Stephen Ellacott watched his sister; she seemed inordinately distracted by the sight of Colonel Strike….he didn’t mind – rather her be distracted by him than the snivelling de Cunliffe.

Although, talk of the devil…..the man himself appeared and took Venetia’s arm to signify the beginning of dancing in the main ballroom.  
Stephen wandered across to Colonel Strike, taking a drink from a tray in passing.  
“You had a pleasant journey I hope? I take it congratulations regarding Tabley House are in order?” he asked, and so began a pleasant discourse about various aspects of life in the north compared to the business of London – although Stephen assured him that in Harrogate there was a great deal of culture to be found.

Venetia danced with Matthew for several traverses before being claimed by Nicholas Herbert while Ilsa paused to refresh herself.  
She almost bumped into Colonel Strike upon her return; he had maneuvered himself towards the doorway and was observing Miss Ellacott as she tripped lightly across the wooden floor, Nicholas’ hands guiding her around in an elegant sweeping movement.  
A small sob emanated from his throat, but Ilsa Herbert interrupted his daydream.

“Colonel! Erm…..how good to see you this evening,” she gasped, forcing her eyes to remain on his face rather than drop to the breadth of his chest, which she was still struggling to focus on without seeing the dark hair and plastered shirt sticking to it she had observed earlier.  
Good Lord, Ilsa….pull yourself together; she mentally chastised herself.

“Mrs Herbert……You look remarkably refreshed after your ride today. It is a pleasure to see you and Mr Herbert again,” he smiled warmly and flicked his eyes across to her husband, the dance was ending and both he and Venetia were twirling in a delirious circle before breaking into applause for the musicians.  
Nicholas offered his arm to Venetia and brought her across to his wife, and therefore by default to Colonel Strike.

“Colonel Strike! I take it you shall be our neighbour after all. What excellent news!” Nicholas trilled, shaking the outstretched hand of the Colonel before clasping his wife’s hand across his forearm.  
“A near neighbour, my friend! But yes…it is excellent news,” and he turned his attention towards Venetia at last, “Miss Ellacott,” he inclined his head and bowed fractionally.  
“Good evening, Colonel…..did you have a pleasant ride north?” she asked, her eyes remaining fixed on the lapels of his blue jacket until she matched the direction of her gaze to her final word.

His eyes stared intently into hers, she thought she saw a glimmer of mischief behind them, and his lip twitched fractionally before he answered,  
“The ride was pleasing enough, and my arrival in the north of England is definitely one which I shall remember fondly,” and at this point he took her slender fingers in his own to press a chaste, warm kiss to her hand.

“Come, Miss Ellacott!” Matthew de Cunliffe’s voice cut through the charged atmosphere between the pair, “Shall we inspect the refreshments? I’m sure you are a lady with an appetite!”  
The tweak of lips and raise of brows of Venetia and Cormoran respectively went unseen by the sneering host.

Taking Venetia’s arm he twisted her and appeared to aim directly towards the Colonel as he led her away.  
He regarded the broad man, goading him into allowing them to pass. The Colonel moved fractionally meaning that Matthew had to almost shoulder barge the taller man to pass.  
Matthew’s shoulders twisted awkwardly back upon meeting the Colonel's frame in order to accommodate the narrow space…..the Colonel’s body did not move an inch.

Having left the group Matthew led Venetia towards the refreshments which had been arranged in a dining hall.  
She glanced over her shoulder at the doorway, finding the Colonel’s waiting eyes.  
She flashed him a small, dimple cheeked smile which melted his heart.  
He flashed her a small, wolfish grin which warmed her thighs.

The rest of the evening was full of dancing and eating (for Venetia), eating, smoking and drinking (for Cormoran) and merriment – for both, especially when they caught each other’s smouldering and enticing glances.  
Sadly though, Matthew de Cunliffe was monopolising Venetia’s attention, and having been responsible for passing her several glasses of wine, she was becoming less able or willing to fend him off.

Stephen Ellacott had observed Matthew’s actions and had spoken to his sister on a couple of occasions – she had sworn she was well, and that she was enjoying his company……he adored his sister, but she apparently had appalling taste in men!

As the guests began to drift home or to their rooms, Venetia was being escorted by Matthew up the large staircase.  
The Colonel had left the entertainment a little earlier, along with the Herberts.  
He had said his goodnights to them and was making his way towards his own room when he heard the bell like ring of Venetia’s laugh, followed by the snarling leer of Matthew.  
The sounds caused a physical ache within him, and he turned himself away so as not to witness what he was certain would follow; namely some furtive embrace.  
The small, feminine giggle met his ears once more and he bit his lip at the thought that it was another man who was responsible for her joy and delight.  
He sighed and went to his room, turning as he found his door and catching sight of Matthew leaning across Venetia at her door.  
He closed it behind himself more forcefully than he intended and ripped the choking cravat from his throat, gulping down a glass of wine from the decanter left on a side table by his window.

Venetia heard the noise, but was more concerned with trying to reach the handle of her room.  
Matthew de Cunliffe appeared to be reaching behind her to grasp it himself.  
The wine she had drunk was making her less able to stand firm and repel his advances, and she was now somewhat frightened that he was about to be completely improper towards her.  
“Mr de Cunliffe, please…..goodnight, Sir…..Sir….please,” her muffled statements strangled somewhat by his arms and face pressing against her.  
“Venetiaaaaaaa……..you know what I’d like for us, don’t you? Give in to me…….” he breathed, panting unappealingly in her ear.

“Venetia, my dear. I was just looking for you to wish you goodnight,” the voice of Stephen Ellacott sounded clearly and made Matthew leap back away from his ‘prize’. “Goodnight Mr de Cunliffe, sleep well,” he continued in a purposeful, firm manner.

He regarded his sister’s ruffled expression, she flashed him a fuzzy gaze, but looked relieved.  
“Good night Stephen,” she whispered, and finally found the door handle and went into her room.

Stephen Ellacott waited for a few moments out of sight in the hallway before making his way to his own room and sleep.

For Venetia sleep did not come quickly.  
She was startled by Matthew’s behaviour, and by the fact that she had allowed wine to affect her own behaviour so much.  
Lying in her crisp sheets however it was the image of Colonel Strike that seemed to affect her even more.  
She saw him stood at the bottom of her bed; one hand clasping each of the tall wooden posts framing it, his lips curled into that delicious grin.  
Each time she closed her eyes to remove the image she found it replaced by the vision from earlier in the stableyard and she found herself in need of a similar dousing of cold water!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, that end image of him with his hands grasping the bed posts is pure Dolokhov!!! *sigh, fans self.....#alittlesomethingjustforme


	18. The scenery is rather jolly isn't it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a walk and a little encounter on a stile.  
> A bit of shooting action with our Colonel looking delicious with a gun - I may have been slightly inspired by Athos!  
> Nicholas gets a shooting lesson from our Colonel - rough but dexterous hands! Also a bit of their mutual larking about - I don't share the joke....but it is clearly something about imagining the target as a man and considering which part of the anatomy Nicholas would have hit!  
> Venetia can't stop looking - inspired by my own reaction to the delicious images of Mr B at Sundance 2019!
> 
> Oh, and Lady Sarah pops back up! Feel free to boo and hiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a point in the chapter where I feel LulaIsAKitten may need to stop and be fanned, or hosed down.....she'll know where it is!

The following day everyone drifted down for breakfast dressed for a day in the outdoors.  
Cormoran’s servant had laid out his military breeches and tall boots, together with a thicker weight brown coat and his tall, black hat.  
Matthew de Cunliffe appeared rather out of sorts, although Cormoran surmised that a hangover could be partially to blame given the amount of wine he had seen the man drink the previous evening!  
He noticed him cast a look of snarled displeasure towards Venetia, who was obliviously in conversation with her brother; and, he also noted, looking as though she was very much being scolded by the elder man.  
She still looked incredibly pretty though, especially when she pouted her lower lip at something Stephen remarked.

They planned to walk rather than ride, Matthew proposed taking rifles and they would shoot some game as well as use some targets for practise.  
Colonel Strike had decided that carrying his cane would not enable him to fully participate in the shooting, and he badly needed to fire a gun at things.  
His leg was aching after the ride, but walking was a different kind of strain on it.  
Maybe they would stick to decent pathways…

….an hour or so later the Colonels’ limp was becoming more pronounced.  
Matthew de Cunliffe had noticed and rather than keep to the wooded path lead them over a stile and into a heavily rutted field.

“Across this way….keep up!” he snarled, grinning savagely as he noticed a small grimace on the Colonel’s face.

Ilsa and Venetia had fallen into step together towards the back of the group, their heads were close and Venetia still carried her pouty lipped expression.  
At the stile the Colonel paused once across, Stephen Ellacott halted on the other side.  
He took Ilsa’s gloved hand first as she stepped onto the wooden cross piece and transferred her hand to the Colonel for him to assist her down.  
They then repeated the actions with Venetia, however, she faltered slightly as she stepped over the top rail and slipped into the waiting arms of the Colonel.  
He reacted instinctively and clasped both of his gloved hands around her waist , she reached out and steadied herself with a hand on each of his firm upper arms.  
She could feel his hard, flexed muscles beneath the fabric of his coat. 

The Colonel considered steadying Miss Ellacott on the stile and supporting her hand to allow her to step down, but instead decided to simply lift her down from the crossbar.  
Venetia’s breath caught in her throat as she felt his large hands flex against her slender waist, his fingers splayed across her back, his thumbs either side of her navel; he felt incredibly strong, and she felt gratifyingly safe as he effortlessly lowered her to the ground.  
“Thank you, Colonel,” she whispered, flashing him a twinkling glance from beneath her lowered lashes as she looked up from the rim of her bonnet at his intense, scrutinising gaze.  
“It’s muddy, be careful,” he stated, trying vainly not to fall too deeply into the pools of grey-blue staring up at him.  
He had to remember that on the previous evening she had been allowing Matthew de Cunliffe all kinds of liberties with her at her bedroom door….she wasn’t his.

He released his hands from her waist and noticed that she removed her own hands from his shoulders slowly, having given each a squeeze from her palms.  
The Colonel turned and tried to keep his footing on the uneven ground without drawing too much attention to his leg.

A short while later they all paused in a clearing.  
Matthew sent the game keeper on ahead to start flushing out the birds – pheasants on this occasion - and the gentlemen took positions, Matthew taking the first position, Nicholas second, Stephen in third and the Colonel in last spot – technically the hardest as the birds were generally further away, or higher, or had already been dispatched.  
The ladies stood near the trees and waited as the shouts went up to flush out the first birds. 

Several fluttered up into the sky, Matthew fired his rifle and missed, Nicholas hit one, Stephen missed and the Colonel brought down a second.  
The dogs went out and retrieved them, one suffering a ragged shot and required finishing off, the other a clean shot, hardly ruffling the feathers.

The shouts came again, Matthew missed one of the two birds, so did Nicholas as they were swirling in flight, Stephen took aim but shook his head, feeling they were too difficult to hit.  
The Colonel however focussed and aimed his rifle, altering his stance and the angle of the weapon slightly and waited for a few beats before firing.

Venetia watched him intently, his lips pursed rather gloriously when he fired and the small puff of smoke from the barrel made him narrow his eyes slightly in a somewhat predatory manner.  
It made Venetia want to ……well, she wasn’t sure…..but whatever it was should probably not take place in a field…..with onlookers!

The bird fell to the floor and the Colonel handed the gun to his loader, sniffing in a satisfied fashion as Stephen and Nicholas both congratulated him on the shot.  
Matthew grunted and shouted out for another flurry of birds, several rose into the air, and again Matthew snatched at his shot, swearing loudly.  
Nicholas felled one, Stephen a second and the Colonel focussed intently to take down a third.

They continued in this manner for almost an hour: Matthew managed eventually to bring down a lone pheasant, the Colonel brought one down each flush.  
Venetia’s gaze seldom drifted away from him; his wide legged stance, the way his broad shoulders remained steady as he twisted his waist to follow the birds, the way his face held an unphased expression….and the way, on one occasion only, he met her gaze as he flexed his jaw and broke his rifle effortlessly, handing it to the loader and only then turning his eyes away from hers.

They moved a little further on to the same tent covering which had been used the previous day.  
This time it was set up close to a field set out with targets at various paced distances from a table of pistols.

The group took refreshment in the form of a cold, seated lunch, accompanied by champagne.  
Matthew de Cunliffe’s mood seemed to pick up after downing several glasses, and as they finished their meal he turned his attention back towards Venetia, much to Stephen Ellacott’s displeasure.

Servants reorganised the seating, providing a row of chairs for the ladies and any of the gentlemen who wished to join them.  
Matthew however headed down to the pistols and shouted back up the slight banking,  
“Come on Colonel…..let’s see if you’re as clever with one of these,” and he waggled one of the pistols in the air above his head, making the nearby footman wince.

The Colonel cautiously made his way down the banking, accompanied by Nicholas. Stephen remained alongside his sister.

“Fancy teaching me a bit of technique?” Nicholas Herbert asked the Colonel as they surveyed the pistols loaded and laid out for use.  
“Depends on where you are planning on aiming!” he rumbled deeply, flicking his gaze towards Matthew de Cunliffe who was aiming (wildly off line, Cormoran could see even from his position) and making ‘bang’ noises with his mouth.  
Nicholas bit away his slight grin and picked up one of the pistols.

“I find it tricky because technically I’m left handed, but of course it’s been drummed out of me….but a pistol is always more difficult to deal with. Any tips?” he asked.  
Colonel Strike picked up one of the other pistols and arranged it comfortably in his grip with ease.  
He held out the weapon and it looked like a natural continuation of his outstretched arm; rock solid, no movement.

“Show me,” he stated simply and observed as Nicholas held up the piece, trying to mimic the position he had seen Cormoran assume.  
It looked slightly awkward, and his wrist wasn’t in quite the right position to hold the weapon steady.

“If I may?.....” the Colonel offered, and took the encouraging nod from his friend as an invitation.  
He stood behind Nicholas and placed his hands on the man’s slender hips, twisting his stance quite brusquely so that his hips faced towards the women in the tent – from their position both Ilsa and Venetia inhaled sharply and whimpered slightly (for very different reasons) – he then maintained one hand on Nicholas’ left hip and used his right to pull his shoulder back, pushing down so that the man’s knees flexed slightly.  
The two men were clearly sharing a sort of conversation; Ilsa could see their lips moving plus grins and winces emanating from both.

The Colonel next turned his attention to Nicholas’ right arm.  
He used the hand that had been on his hip to keep the man’s shoulder down as he used the other to raise the outstretched arm fractionally.  
He was standing closely behind Nicholas Herbert, almost shadowing his stance, the Colonel’s hips almost pressing into Nicholas’ buttocks and whispering close to his ear, Nicholas seemed to be listening intently and the ladies could see minimal changes to the position of his wrist, fingers on the pistol and overall direction of the weapon.  
The Colonel eventually stepped back and seemed pleased with the result.

Matthew de Cunliffe had made himself ready to fire and signalled to the footman who shouted a warning before he fired…..naturally he missed all of the targets.  
Nicholas then fired and hit the middle range target almost centrally, and was thrilled….he almost leapt onto the Colonel in joy, and was warmly congratulated with a firm clap on the back by Colonel Strike.

Both Ilsa and Venetia applauded and couldn’t contain the beaming smiles on their faces, Stephen Ellacott clapped loudly, shouting “Well done! Wonderful shot!”  
Colonel Strike didn’t want to take away from the moment, but de Cunliffe’s voice sounded out harshly, and with a slight slur, “Well come on, Colonel….get on with it!”  
Colonel Strike inclined his head towards Nicholas almost apologetically and quickly assumed his low, wide stance.  
He narrowed his eyes slightly and aimed the pistol, squeezing the trigger and pursing his lips in the now familiar to Venetia movement.  
She realised a fraction too late that she had mimicked the facial movement and avoided Ilsa’s amused smirk beside her.

He hit the furthest away target absolutely centrally and grinned in a slightly self conscious manner as Nicholas whooped, Stephen cheered loudly and Ilsa clapped excitedly.  
However, it was only the reaction of Miss Ellacott that truly interested him; her lips were clasped between her teeth, eyes glittering and her head tilted slightly on her languid neck.  
She was clapping her gloved hands almost mechanically; her mind desperately trying to erase the combination of images that were swirling around in it – bed posts, tight cream breeches, firm thighs, the feel of his upper arms in her palms, his chest partially exposed through a soaked shirt, his hands breaking the rifle and that narrow eyed focus before the wisp of gunpowder.  
Gosh...it suddenly felt rather warm.

Nicholas was eager to practise further and this time the Colonel adjusted the man’s body minimally as it assumed a more natural position.  
He fired and glanced the outer edge of the same target as before.  
Despite not being as central he was pleased as he’d needed less coaching from the Colonel.  
The men seemed to be chatting as the pistols were reloaded, the Colonel was able to demonstrate to Nicholas how it was done and the sight of him ramming the shot down the barrel caused a ripple of pleasure to spread through Venetia’s groin, making her shift her position in the seat as she looked on…..but she couldn’t stop looking!  
“The scenery is rather jolly isn’t it?” Ilsa whispered, giggling at Venetia’s returned vacant expression and open mouthed blink.

Matthew de Cunliffe had made his way back to the pistol table and selected a second weapon. He leaned against the edge, feeling decidedly queasy, but he listened into the other gentleman’s conversation:

N : “I would imagine marriage doesn’t suit a military career?”

C : “Not as a rule, and certainly I would say a wife and offspring could be a decided distraction on the battlefield.”

N : “Best thing I ever did though……married the woman who warms my heart!”

C : “ A rare thing indeed…..most of us end up marrying the one who we're told to, or who’ll say yes….that is NOT going to happen to me!”

Matthew listened and took a further shot at the targets, he managed to catch the base of one of the mounted targets and erupted in a leering cheer as if he'd found the bullseye.  
Nicholas had several further shots and managed to get all of them on target.  
It was clear that the Colonel was urging him to attempt the furthest target.  
Nicholas lifted the pistol and assumed his now more familiar position but lowered the weapon and seemingly said something amusing because the Colonel roared a deep, baritone laugh and slapped his hand on his thigh, bending slightly as his shoulders quivered.

Nicholas tried again, shouted “Wish me luck and keep your heads down!” before firing.  
The shot clipped the very bottom edge of the target.  
He twirled around and this time it was his turn to erupt in loud amusement as clearly the Colonel made some comment, causing them both to clasp their knees together and wince.

Heady with success Nicholas made his way towards his beaming wife, clambering up the slope to squeeze her hand – although wishing desperately that they were alone and he could instead kiss her and share his euphoric virility with her.  
“I’ve had enough!” de Cunliffe stated petulantly and dropped the pistol onto the table, making Cormoran twist his lip; these were beautiful pieces of weaponry, he should treat them more reverently.

Matthew began to clamber up the slope and the Colonel steeled himself for what he knew would be a painful ascent of the slope.  
His leg was hurting quite a lot, the poise he had with a pistol was at the expense of increased weight on his right leg.  
He took long strides to minimise the agony of each step and almost caught up with Matthew.  
Their host lost his footing slightly and fell forwards onto his hands, swearing outloud.  
Cormoran grasped hold of the man’s collar and hauled him up, “Watch yourself there,” he growled, before moving on, hardly pausing as he reached the relative sanctity of the flat, rubbing his hands together as if to remove the feeling of Matthew's clothing on his palms.

“Superb shooting, Colonel!” Stephen Ellacott stated, holding out his hand to shake the firm, outstretched one offered by Cormoran.  
“I was trained well and I find it easy to take instruction,” he stated plainly.  
“Well, I daresay that’s why Catterick are snapping you up!” Stephen added with a smile and a firm hand on the large man’s back.

“Right, back to the house,” Matthew de Cunliffe announced, “Miss Ellacott……come and be escorted by the richest man here!”  
Venetia made a slight face as if she was eating something unpleasant, but had little choice than to walk across to him and take the bent arm he offered - he was the host afterall....and she was an unmarried woman.  
Stephen Ellacott assumed a position behind them….a stride away!

Strike felt the pain in his leg deepen and hovered at the rear of the party, however he was able to use the image of Miss Ellacott’s elegant shape as a method of spurring him onwards.  
They stuck to the pathway on their return, avoiding the need to tackle the stile again and reached the house more quickly this way.

Upon entering the gravelled driveway they noticed a carriage in the process of depositing it’s occupant.  
A high pitched, feminine squeal rung out as Lady Sarah Shadlock emerged from the covered barouche box.  
She looked slightly ruffled and giggled ridiculously as she stepped down, the height seemingly more than she’d expected.  
Colonel Strike stretched forwards to offer support to steady her, “Why thank you Colonel Ssssstrike!” she slurred, he could smell an overwhelming aroma of alcohol on her breath, which accounted for the lack of elegance in her mannerisms.

“Lady S!” Matthew shouted, “Are you joining us?”  
She let out another of her cackling laughs as Matthew dropped Venetia’s hand unceremoniously and offered his arm to Lady Sarah and escorted her inside, their heads close together, whispering and giggling in mutual, alcohol induced ridiculousness.

Venetia stood alone in the courtyard, blinking to hide….was it relief? ….or was it humiliation?

Either way, Cormoran came to her aide, “Miss Ellacott, I seem finally able to seek your company,” and she slid her hand along his firm forearm, feeling the most comfortable she had felt all day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That slightly self conscious grin Strike gives after hitting the target is based on a lovely image from Sundance of TB signing a couple of autographs....it's on Tumblr.....it's jolly nice!


	19. Our Colonel has subhuman-like restraint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Venetia is still dithering - and making our lovely Colonel think she isn't into him at all.  
> Shanker returns - hurrah!  
> They dress up for the evening and Matthew Cunliffe is being rather 'cool' towards our Venetia.  
> Venetia and the Colonel have an easy banter - based loosely on the Keira Knightly Pride and Prej where she meets Georgiana and they mock each other, and Darcy smiles and laughs!  
> Lady Sarah sets her cap at Strike for the evening!!!!!!!

Venetia was completely torn in her emotions.  
As she walked beside the tall Colonel she felt relaxed and almost delirious….but he had relatively little money compared to the riches of Matthew de Cunliffe.  
He had a decidedly shameful heritage, and there was the myriad of stories about his romance with Lady Charlotte Campbell.

Matthew on the other hand was respectable, he had promise in has career in parliament and was so wealthy…..  
…but her eyes didn’t scan a room for him.

No, her eyes scanned the room for the dark curls and brooding gaze of the Colonel……and they usually found him looking directly back at her, although today she had noticed a slight grimace and sadness behind their green intensity.  
She realised that the Colonel was addressing her and concentrated on the end of his statement,  
“….I do so hope you will all accept my invitation once I settle on a date?” he finished, clearly waiting for her response.

An invitation?  
To what exactly?  
But if he was issuing it she would accept regardless!

“Of course, we shall be very happy to accept I’m sure,” she smiled but unable to prevent her eyes drifting across to the sight of Lady Sarah Shadlock almost sprawled on a sofa with Matthew de Cunliffe leaning across her, mimicking a pistol with his outstretched, wayward arm.  
The Colonel noticed her wandering gaze, “Excuse me….I have over taxed my leg today, I should ease it slightly,” and he turned rather abruptly and left the room, making his way single mindedly towards the privacy of his own.

 

The welcoming face of Shanker met him and despite the pain in his leg, and his heart, he flashed a warm smile at his faithful friend.  
“That leg giving you jip, Sir? ‘ot bath, that’ll sort it, then I’ll rub on some of that balm,” he grinned, stripping off his master’s coat and smoothing it onto a hanger before pouring and handing him a glass of whisky and moving to the adjacent bathroom to start the process of filling the bath with hot water.  
The Colonel gulped down the whisky as if it were medicine and dragged his splayed hand through his hair and across his face, the bristles of his beard rustling in the quiet room.  
Shanker picked up the gloves which Strike had deposited on the table, a whiff of gunpowder caught his nostrils.  
“Shooting as well? Sir, you know that cripples you for days!” he almost shouted at his master.  
“Don’t call me a cripple!” snarled Cormoran, slamming the empty glass down, “And fill that again….. I’ll be fine.”  
His mouth was set into a firm, thin line, his eyes swirling with anguish and annoyance….some of which Shanker knew, from experience, was due to the pain in his leg…but there was something else too.  
Shanker took the glass and silently refilled it, placing it within easy reach.  
“I take it you were the best shot as usual,” the valet commented as he moved around the room efficiently, his presence alone acting to sooth the Colonel’s mood.  
He sniffed slightly, “Yes…..although Nicholas Herbert has a natural talent. Would you be so kind as to fetch a stool and help with my boots,” he continued, offering an apologetic tweak of his lips towards the other man.  
“Of course, Sir,” and their normal level of respect was restored.

If only all relationships could be this simply rectified and played out!  
____________

Venetia remained in the parlour, her brother approached her after the Colonel left her.  
“You’re a fool!” he stated calmly.  
“I’m trying not to be. It would be foolish for me to act only upon one feeling rather than to consider the wider picture…..and anyway, neither has made me any kind of offer!” and she excused herself, leaving the room along with the Herberts who were eager to wash and ‘rest’.  
_____________

The evening promised to be one full of amusement and entertainment.  
There was of course food and wine laid out in the large dining hall, there were musicians arranged – but not for the purpose of dancing this evening – merely for enjoyment.  
However, the main event was a candlelit maze!

The evening was fine and clear, and the maze in one of the more formal part of the gardens, had been decorated with colourful bunting and streamers.  
Large torches and candles had been set out ready to be lit once the light faded.  
It all looked jolly exciting!

Venetia had elected to wear the pale pink gown she had previously worn to the Hogarth’s gathering.  
It was one of her most flattering gowns and suited her colouring beautifully.  
She had styled her hair into a design of looser wavy curls and had threaded pale pink ribbons and a string of pearls through it to resemble the profile of a Grecian goddess.

She surveyed the scene from the base of the staircase and located Ilsa and Nicholas Herbert among the various faces – some of whom had attended the dinner, some of whom where new and unfamiliar.  
Her brother was not yet in the crowd, neither was Colonel Strike and she blushed at the thought that she had noticed his absence.

Matthew de Cunliffe was naturally present, he was receiving guests and Venetia went across to formally greet him for the evening.  
She noticed that Lady Sarah Shadlock was in the greeting party on his left; but in fairness to her title she supposed it was quite proper that she was there.

“Venetia, darling. How completely divine you look,” trilled Sarah, bobbing a small curtsey, which was mirrored back by Venetia.  
Matthew de Cunliffe was leering at her bosom again; although to be fair, her gown was so low cut that a man would have to have subhuman-like restraint to avoid doing so!

“Good evening Mr de Cunliffe. I must say everything looks quite beautiful this evening,” Venetia commented, flashing him one of her dimpled smiles as she glanced around at the scene.  
Matthew took her hand and greeted her properly, although he seemed slightly distracted, and not just by her cleavage. “I hope you enjoy your evening Miss Ellacott,” he stated and reached to greet the next in line.

Venetia jolted her chin slightly and interlaced her gloved fingers to try to decide on what action to take now.  
She couldn’t go through into the main rooms without an escort really, so she made her way across to the side of the room looking for a familiar face to talk to.  
She saw none, but wandered into a position to be able to spot anyone descending the staircase – namely her brother….or anyone else of note.  
She was not oblivious to the many admiring glances she was receiving from a number of young gentlemen, but as she hadn’t been properly introduced it would have been improper for any of them to approach her…several however made a mental note to seek her out later…maybe in the maze!

She waited for Stephen, but it was another familiar face who appeared at the top of the staircase first.

Colonel Strike clasped the bannister rail rather tightly as he made his descent.  
Thankfully the treads where shallow so the increased pressure on his still painful limb was not as severe as it could have been.  
The hot bath and balm which Shanker applied afterwards had indeed served to ease it, but the staircase was more of a struggle than it had been on previous days.

He was however happy with his appearance – Shanker had brought one of his newly commissioned coats to him, direct from the tailor – it was a deep grey wool with a much higher turned collar than he usually favoured, with exquisitely cut out lapels.  
The lining was stunning shade of silver grey and it fitted him beautifully.  
Shanker had assembled a pair of his new trousers, in black with a grey pin stripe, and he wore the beautiful peacock blue waistcoat again – which made him shiver as he remembered Miss Ellacott’s caressing fingertips against the fabric on it’s previous wear. 

His valet had also persuaded him to follow a new fashion for coloured cravats, and he had lifted out a pale, smoke coloured length of linen which looked wonderfully tonal.  
He wore black short boots beneath the trousers and had styled his unruly curls into a rather pleasing coiffure with some pomade.  
His signature cologne was smeared across his beard and chest with a slight residue on his large hands.

Shanker’s nod and grin of approval had made him smile and the remnants of the grin were still lingering on his face when Venetia glanced up and noticed him descending the sweeping, ruby carpet covered staircase.

He had calmed himself from earlier; there would surely be a number of pretty ladies who could amuse him this evening whilst Mr de Cunliffe monopolised Miss Ellacott. He need not concern himself further with her consideration.

However, he noticed her immediately….he couldn’t help it, and in truth he knew his eyes had been scanning the scene for her honey coloured head and that of no other.

She was wearing that pink gown; the same one that had been crushed beside him on the window seat at the Hogarth’s; the same one that he had fantasised about having grazed his knuckles against the fabric on that same occasion; the same one that had revealed those small, pink leather clad feet to him….that he’d wanted to cup in his hands, and cover with kisses.  
She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen…and he realised for the first time that he had previously only considered Lady Charlotte Campbell in that role. 

Her own high born, long boned beauty was certainly undeniable.  
Miss Ellacott however radiated her beauty like warm light; as though her coppery hair were reflecting heat and energy.

It would be rude to immediately cross to her, despite her apparent lonely state…and the fact that he could see at least five other men openly drooling over her made it even harder to turn and approach his host.  
Every fibre of his body wanted to rush to her and be beside her; his eyes wanted to tell hers that he would always be there for her, he would be the dependable one who would be on her right hand…..but he knew that he had no right to that claim as she had clearly already given it over to Matthew de Cunliffe.

He approached that man now, realising not for the first time that he was a good few inches taller than him and almost a foot wider across his shoulders, which he felt were rather pleasingly shown off by his new coat.  
Lady Sarah Shadlock noticed the arrival of the Colonel before Matthew.  
Her eyes roved unashamedly up and down him and her teeth clasped her lower lip in a manner which he presumed she thought coquettish, but which merely looked rather brazen and easy.  
“Lady Sarah, good evening to you,” he growled huskily in his deep, rumbling tone, making the lady purr and offer her gloved hand.  
He took it and raised it to his lips, he pressed them against the leather but did not linger and moved directly to Matthew.  
He did not bother extending his hand as he knew Matthew did not return the greeting, and simply offered his usual, curt and precise bow.  
“Colonel Strike. I trust we haven’t exhausted you with all that walking earlier?” he made a point of gazing down at the broad man’s leg with a slight sneer.  
“On the contrary, I'm all the better for the exercise,” he lied, turning to walk away before he behaved in a manner which would make him a social pariah but would make Shanker proud!

 

Venetia had moved a little, she’d found herself drifting slightly to maintain a sightline with Colonel Strike and saw his expression flicker with anger as he strode away from their host.  
He was briefly focussing on the tiled floor, but then lifted his gaze and she noticed with a small hitch to her chest that he was scanning the place where she had been standing.  
She giggled impishly as his eyes narrowed, as they had when he had been shooting, and saw a small frown ripple his usually smooth forehead as he looked fruitlessly for his desired goal.

She was rather bravely (or wantonly) making her way through the various groups of people to approach him unseen.  
“Dearest sister!” her brother, who had been watching the scene unfold rather mischievously crept behind her and sounded his comment loudly enough to make her and the Colonel start.  
“Good evening Stephen,” she gasped, steadying her breathing as the Colonel turned to face them both.  
There was still a slightly glazed expression and arched brow to his face as he outstretched his hand to Stephen.  
“Colonel…..I don’t know about you, but I’m officially as stiff as a board after that shooting earlier. Back’s absolute agony!” Stephen shook the Colonel’s hand and stretched slightly, wincing as a resounding crack of bones rang out.  
“Stephen! Really!” Venetia admonished, nudging his ribs, earning a groan in response.  
“Madam, please…. I fear if you scold him further your brother may fall apart,” and Cormoran gave a crinkle eyed, purse lipped smile in her direction before he remembered protocol. “Good evening Miss Ellacott," his eyes, displaying rigid restraint in never veering below her chin.

The sound of the phrase sounded delightful to Venetia, but as he uttered it she secretly wished he could use her forename in greeting…..to hear him utter her name would be wonderful she thought.

She brought herself back from her momentary daydream to offer her hand to him and curtsey politely, “Good evening Colonel Strike. I trust you have left your pistols elsewhere this evening,” she smiled warmly, her blue-grey eyes twinkling at him. “I don’t suppose it would be frightfully sporting to shoot an owl!”  
He grinned and laughed slightly, a natural and relaxed expression to her humour, “I find they spoil the line of my coat madam….the nocturnal wildlife is safe!” and he realised he had grasped her fingers but not as yet raised them to his lips.  
He did so now, and continued to smile against the leather of her glove, moving his lips slightly against the firmness of her hand before he released it, his fingers lingering as long as possible before letting go completely.

“Now then, Venetia, shall we venture in?” her brother suggested, meaning for the Colonel to accompany them.  
“If you will excuse me, I should seek out the Herberts,” and he inclined his head fractionally before moving off.

Lady Sarah Shadlock watched his dark head and brooding features as he made his way through to one of the other rooms filled with guests.  
He was certainly handsome….and according to the rumours (albeit those started by Charlotte Campbell) he had all but ravished her on numerous occasions in Spain!  
Perhaps he could be persuaded to offer her a little amusement later on….she made it her plan for the evening to find out…..although Matthew de Cunliffe seemed to be unusually attentive towards her also. 

She smiled, smugly – a title for a female was a marvellous freedom!


	20. Make the decision with your heart, not your head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Stephen Ellacott is wonderful - in case you didn't already know it!  
> For those of you beginning to despair of Venetia's reasons for choosing a husband, feel safe in the knowledge that her brother wants her with the 'right' one!  
> Candlelight is rather seductive.  
> The Colonel and Venetia have a little moment.....with a nod to that party in The Silkworm!  
> For the image of the Colonel on the stone bench please see that one of him in Sundance at the imdb stand.....the one with those shambolic laces!!!

Stephen and Venetia joined Nicholas and Ilsa Herbert for a short while; the string quartet playing a pleasing selection of music in the background.  
Colonel Strike had discovered a distant acquaintance from his military career in attendance and was deep in conversation, his lips softly pursed in concentration as he listened intently to the other man’s comments and formulated a response.

Matthew de Cunliffe was fawning over Sarah Shadlock, although Ilsa noticed that she wasn’t necessarily responding to him now….she was distracting herself instead by staring quite unashamedly at Colonel Strike’s long legs and animated features.

The musical accompaniment changed in tone abruptly and a footman loudly announced that the maze was now available should guests wish to explore.  
Matthew linked arms with Lady Sarah and lead her through the open French doors.  
Servants offered a lit candle in a glass jar to each of the guests, although as Venetia and her brother made their way outside it was hardly necessary as the maze itself was a fairyland of twinkling and flickering lights.  
Gasps of awe and amazement accompanied the trail of guests making their way animatedly into the maze.

Stephen and Venetia accepted their lanterns and wandered between the glowing hedgerows together, charmed at the beauty of the spectacle.  
The maze itself was rather lengthy, with a good many ‘red herring’ dead ends and twisting turns which led to secluded bench seats, an arbour and even statues.  
At one such seating space Stephen paused,  
“Sit with me a moment dearest,” he kindly ordered rather than ask.

Venetia did as she was asked, placing her lantern at her feet.  
She waited as her brother appeared to consider his next words.  
“Venetia dear…..don’t be too hasty,” he said softly. “You shouldn’t be in a rush to marry if the man isn’t worthy of you.”  
Venetia sighed and shook her head, “That is so obviously a comment made by a man!” she hissed. “Until I marry I am stifled…I couldn’t even go into the dining hall this evening until you came….nobody would talk to me until I was with someone who apparently makes it proper to do so….and it’s driving me mad!”

Stephen felt her slender body slump next to him, she was right; he couldn’t possibly understand her position and emotions, because as a single man he had enjoyed far more freedom.  
He’d had his choice of wife; within reason; and was now trying to impose his own married, male considerations on his pretty, single, female sister.  
He drew his arm around her shoulders and clasped her limp body to his comforting warmth.

“Just make the decision with your heart, not your head…I know, I know….I’m a brusque northern businessman, I could be flayed for making comments like that….but I mean it. You are too precious to give yourself to the wrong man,” and he pressed his lips to her temple before releasing her from his bear-like embrace.

A shrieking cackle split the magical moment between siblings and Venetia felt her brother tense and hiss in his breath as Lady Sarah Shadlock appeared in view, Matthew de Cunliffe trailing after her.  
He paused slightly to leer at Venetia’s candlelit bosom and flash her a predatory smile; but continued after the other woman; the titled one!

“I have a slight headache, Stephen,” she stated, “I’d like to go back…no, I can find my way. Goodnight; you’re a good brother, Stephen,” and she placed a kiss on his cheek as she stood and collected her lantern from the floor.  
She had already noted that the colourful bunting was fluttering above the hedge and basically showed the position of the entrance, and therefore exit, to the maze.  
Stephen would not normally have allowed her to be alone in such a manner; but he instinctively felt that she needed a moment or two of solitude to consider his comments.

 

Colonel Strike had completed the conversation with his ex-army comrade and was now meandering in the direction of the maze, although his leg was now very much aching; the effect of the soothing balm and hot bath having long since worn off.  
He veered away from the maze and people and located a stone bench where he sat and stretched out his right leg, flexing his ankle and sighing deeply at the mixture of pain and relief from the movement.

His thoughts drifted back to Miss Ellacott….he couldn’t stop them.  
She had looked so beautiful this evening.  
He flexed his fingers and could almost recall the way her leather glove had felt in his grasp……he hadn’t wanted to let it go.  
He wished he could clasp it, drape it across his forearm, cover it with his own and touch her fingertips to his lips whenever he chose.

Why had he fallen for a women he couldn’t have?

He saw her a few moments later as she emerged from the maze in a hazy glow of candlelight……alone.

The Colonel inhaled deeply and slowly, observing her as she began to head towards the house and then changed her route and began heading towards where he was sitting, although from her slightly glazed expression he wasn’t sure she had seen him, or indeed any of the straggling guests.  
She was dangling her candle lantern in her fingers, by her side, and for some reason suddenly shook herself back to reality, lifting it next to her face and catching an unfamiliar but familiar scent on her glove.  
The scent infiltrated her olfactory senses and as she glanced over she caught sight of him framed by the glow of well burned candles.  
His legs were slightly splayed, his right leg fractionally outstretched and his forearms rested on his thighs.  
His hands were loosely clasped together and he regarded her from beneath his soulful, intense green eyes.

He knew that he should stand up in her presence, but he was momentarily frozen by her beauty.  
The glow from the twinkling flames illuminated her pale skin and made her hair appear almost golden, like a halo around her dainty features.  
She tore her eyes away from his to look at the vacant side of the bench and he shifted slightly to allow her more room.

“I have the excuse of a war injury and a day spent over exerting myself shooting…..you on the other hand, Miss Ellacott can usually dance all night without requiring a seat,” he drawled, but with a twinkle behind his green eyes not just the result of candles in the darkness.

Venetia did not respond to his comment, she was still considering her discussion with her brother.  
He had acted like she had a choice….but in reality she had no offers or understandings from gentlemen.

Colonel Strike regarded his beautiful companion allowing his gaze to trail along the elegant curve of her neck and the expanse of soft flesh gently heaving so close to him.  
He sensed her contemplative mood and eased back on the seat loosing himself in his own thoughts….most of which involved the woman seated beside him.

Venetia shivered slightly.

“Here,” he stated simply and removed his coat, slipping the still warm and surprisingly heavy garment around her shoulders.  
It was a rather shocking gesture but carried out in such a practical, non-offensive manner, without fuss or awkwardness on his behalf, that Venetia found herself smiling a little as she inhaled the deeply masculine aromas from the garment.

He was absently regarding the maze as Venetia considered his profile.  
Sensing her eyes on him he tilted his face towards her fractionally.

“Candlelight becomes you, Colonel,” she stated, “It softens your features. They can be quite stern at times,” she smiled.  
Colonel Strike snorted at her impertinent but confident tone….it was so refreshing, but made him even more despairing of her behaviour towards Matthew de Cunliffe.

“Any light becomes you, Miss Ellacott,” he whispered, and lifted one hand, allowing his fingertip to toy with one of the soft honey-gold waves at the nape of her neck.  
It would be so incredibly easy to lean forwards and press his lips to the slightly parted ones of Venetia, but it would be very wrong of him, and he had more self control than that, but his eyes smouldered into hers and silently told her how much he wished she would forget about Matthew and look at him instead.

Venetia felt the Colonel’s eyes flicker from hers to her lips and for a moment wondered if he was thinking about kissing her……and for a moment she wanted him to.  
This was dangerous!

“I had a headache….I should probably go to sleep,” she stated, still staring at the Colonel’s swarthy face, shadowed delightfully in the candlelight.  
“Then allow me to escort you to your door,” and he rose, accepting his coat back and sliding his broad shoulders and muscular arms back into the garment which he noticed had a tantalising scent of her engrained into the fabric.

She rested her hand lightly on his forearm as he led her through the scattered guests and up the staircase, the ache in his lower leg banished for the time being.  
He turned and directed her to the door of her room.  
“Good night, Miss Ellacott,” he stated and bowed his head and neck .  
“Thank you, Colonel,” she whispered back.

Stephen Ellacott observed from a safe distance as the Colonel partially limped down the hallway towards his own room, pausing before turning down a further corridor and looking back at where Venetia was hovering in her doorway, watching him.  
The Colonel gave her a smile that was anything but stern, which was returned softly by Venetia’s full lips, but continued on to his own room.

Stephen waited until her door clicked shut before making his way to his own bed.  
He had sowed the seed in his sister’s head….he just had to hope that she heeded his advice.  
Why could she not see that Colonel Strike was ten times the man that Matthew was?  
Thankfully the Colonel was playing his part perfectly…..and who knew what the morning may bring!


	21. Yes, Sarah Shadlock is a complete cow!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK....hold onto your hats folks....you may want to punch me after this one.....  
> There is however possibly the most seductive mounting of a horse scene EVER!  
> If you wish to scream 'NOOOOOOOO!!!!!' then please do so and feel free to comment with just that!

The following morning the guests who were residing at the estate assembled for communal breakfast at around 10 o’clock where it was decided that they would partake in a ride across to a well known ‘view’ where afternoon tea would be taken.  
Venetia was rather excited at the prospect of finally getting to observe the Colonel on horseback.  
He flicked his warm smile her way several times as they ate, although he was seated a good way down the table from her on this occasion making conversation with him impossible.  
Matthew de Cunliffe appeared to be continuing his attentions towards Sarah Shadlock, although he did make several flattering comments regarding Venetia’s appearance in the saddle which pleased her feminine ego greatly.

Having changed clothing the group made their way outside at a little after midday.  
Venetia sported her green riding habit, Lady Sarah wore a beautiful pale grey design which suited her fair colouring.  
The gentlemen wore various coloured breeches with their tall boots, the Colonel had abandoned his incredibly tight cream ones for a pair of equally tight buff coloured, thick weight breeches which caressed his thighs and buttocks snuggly.  
He was wearing one of his thicker woollen coats with a slender silk scarf in shades on brown and black around his neck. His black top hat finished his look, and stood beside Nicholas Herbert as they fixed on leather gloves in his shades of blue and grey they made a handsome pairing.

The horses had been brought around to the front courtyard rather than the group descending on the stableyard and the ladies stood looking around for the mounting block, which appeared to have been forgotten.  
Matthew de Cunliffe was shouting and berating one of the stable hands; Stephen Ellacott had already mounted but Nicholas and Cormoran were still holding reins and noticed the issue.  
Whilst Matthew continued his vitriol towards the poor young boy, who couldn’t have been more than 12 years old, Colonel Strike moved across to Lady Sarah Shadlock who was standing beside a bay horse.

“Madam, permit me?” and with no pause to allow her to respond reached down and grasped her lower leg, hoisting her upwards efficiently.  
He twisted his hands to take the slight weight of her foot and held her steady as she positioned herself in her saddle, giggling and somewhat breathless. 

Nicholas took the hint and moved across to his wife to assist her in a similar fashion and soon she too was arranging her skirts and reins.  
The Colonel moved across to Venetia, he flashed a cursory glance at her brother, as if seeking permission and received an appreciative nod in response.  
“If I may, Miss Ellacott? If you place your hands on my shoulders it will assist you,” and she gasped as his large hands slid down her calf, searching for her ankle and foot.  
She bent her right leg at the knee and received a satisfied grunt from the Colonel as he was able to position his hands in order to prepare to hoist her up.  
She did as he suggested and placed one hand on each of his broad shoulders, looking down and swallowing visibly as he peered up from his lower position; his beard brushing against the velvet of her skirts, his eyelids fluttering slightly as he fought to retain his composure.  
With an imperceptible lift of her eyebrows, which he took as a signal to proceed, he straightened himself up, lifting Miss Ellacott’s slender frame to perch on the saddle, her left leg brushing against his chest and the toe of her booted foot managing to unintentionally nudge against the front of his breeches, resulting in a sharp intake of his breath.

Venetia flexed her gloved palms against the firmness of his shoulders and tried to not think about the fact that his hands were gripping her foot and ankle so firmly, and did she imagine it or where the fingers of his right hand splaying and rubbing against the leather of her booted calf beneath her skirts?  
She daren’t try to think about it or she would topple out of the saddle she was precariously seated upon – her chestnut horse being a hand or so taller than Lady Sarah’s mount.  
With a further slight grunt the Colonel repositioned his hand at her knee above her skirts, maintaining the other beneath her foot, and hitched her slightly further into the saddle.  
Venetia’s hands were now able to clasp the reins and saddle to enable her to hook her knee around the pommel and squirm slightly to find her balance.  
Her left foot found the stirrup, but she couldn’t quite manage to find her right.  
The Colonel who was still stood ready to offer assistance gripped her heel firmly and slotted the boot into the metal shackle, his eyes dark with desire, intently boring up into hers.  
“Th….thank you Colonel,” she managed to stammer eventually, her mouth feeling slightly odd as she spoke.  
“My pleasure, Miss Ellacott,” he whispered huskily before turning to grasp the reins of his own mount; a huge black stallion.

Venetia turned her horse in a tight circle to reacquaint it with her weight and watched as the Colonel swung effortlessly into the saddle, adjusting his right foot in the stirrups with his hand slightly and settling himself on the saddle; the horse seeming to know and recognise it’s master immediately.  
Venetia’s gaze was focussed somewhat on the sight of his firm, tightly clad thighs squeezing the broad width of the horse.  
He looked incredibly natural sat in the saddle and manuevered the horse effortlessly, barely pulling on the reins at all, clearly using his weight and balance to communicate with the animal.

“Are we ready now?” Matthew slightly screeched, snarling at the Colonel from his own horse and urging it into an almost immediate canter, the others following with a pacy trot.  
Lady Sarah Shadlock brought herself up parallel with the Colonel,  
“You seem remarkably well practised in helping ladies mount horses, Colonel,” she trilled, lowering her eyes in an attempt at seduction. The Colonel however merely smiled and glanced ahead at the ground, ducking slightly to avoid a low branch.  
“I am well practised at helping men mount horses, which is infinitely simpler as they have less to encumber them,” he drawled.  
“Do you suggest that ladies should wear breeches for riding for simplicity’s sake?” she shrieked, pulling a face of astonishment.  
The Colonel sucked in his cheeks, slightly distracted about the thought of Miss Ellacott sitting astride a horse wearing riding breeches, then answered, “Not at all Madam, I am merely stating that the female riding dress, and indeed saddle, are surely more complicated and difficult to master for a lady than a gentleman.”

At this point Matthew de Cunliffe eased off his pace and ambled his mount to join them as they rode on.  
“Our Colonel keeping you company Lady Sarah? He’s certainly got a knack of keeping ladies of your rank amused from what I hear!” he quipped, leering lasciviously at Cormoran who gritted his teeth and tried to prevent the furious reddening of his cheeks.

Matthew fell back in the line further as the Colonel urged his mount on slightly faster to distance himself from the man and catch up to Stephen Ellacott and Nicholas Herbert who were further on ahead.  
De Cunliffe fell into stride alongside Venetia and trailed his eyes across her attractive form.

“And how are you Miss Ellacott? Although I can see that you look well….very well, if I may be so bold,” he flashed her a warm, curled smile.  
Venetia lowered her gaze beneath the veil of her hat and smiled sweetly back at him.  
He really was handsome….but then so was the Colonel!

“Very capable and dependable chap that Colonel Strike,” Matthew indicated with his chin to the man who had reached the other men ahead. “I see he’s sought out the company of the gents again….more used to conversing with them after all those years in the military!” he raised his brows.  
Venetia blushed at his implication.  
“Colonel Strike is quite easy company and conversation as a matter of fact,” she offered.  
“Oh, undoubtedly…..but then he isn’t encumbered with the issue of deciding which one of you to marry is he?”

Venetia twisted her mouth slightly and showed her lack of comprehension as he continued;  
“He’s not the marrying kind…..was telling Nicholas Herbert yesterday when we were shooting….says he thinks a wife is a distraction in the army,” Matthew recounted, “Still, leaves the prettiest ones for us single chaps who like distractions!”

Venetia smiled automatically, although her mind was racing. 

Ilsa Herbert fell into stride with her, having tired of Lady Sarah’s company.  
“Are you quite well my dear? You look pale?” she asked her friend.  
Matthew swapped places and was now beside Lady Sarah up ahead.

“Matthew has just told me something that the Colonel told him yesterday. He says he told your husband that he felt a wife was a distraction and that he had no desire to marry,” she stated, almost imploring Ilsa to answer her.  
She did, “Well, as a matter of fact he did say something along those lines to Nicholas…..I’m afraid I was talking a little…..about you, dearest Venetia. I told him that I felt the Colonel was a little in love with you, and he told me….well, what Matthew said really….I’m sorry.”

Venetia slumped in the saddle, but stared on up the track towards the tall, black hat and unmistakable width of the Colonel alongside her brother….then to the more slender physique of Matthew de Cunliffe who was closer, and glancing around to grin at her.

______  
The view, when they reached it, on any other occasion would have been stunning to Venetia, but today she was rather numb to the beauty of the landscape.

Afternoon tea was taken with her making polite but stilted responses to questions, and limited involvement in the conversation.  
It was not unnoticed by Colonel Strike, although his attention was being slightly monopolised by Sarah Shadlock.  
Sadly for her though, a mounting box had appeared to enable them to seat themselves with the slight assistance of the grim faced stable hand who flashed venomous anger towards his master.

The ride back was uneventful, Stephen rode with his sister, the Colonel always seemed to be beside Lady Sarah, or maybe that was the other way around?!

Colonel Strike and Lady Sarah had reached the house first, some distance ahead of the rest of the group.  
“Shall we go directly to the stables?” he suggested and clattered across the gravel and cobbles to the familiar block at the rear of the main house.  
Lady Sarah directed her horse after him and they found themselves in the stables, although it was empty of staff on first sight.

The Colonel swung himself down from his stirrups and lead his horse by the reins under the overhanging porch and into the stable block. He could spy a stable boy at the far end, occupied by transferring a barrow to be dumped.  
He loosely fastened the reins through a hook and moved outside to where Lady Sarah was dismounting quite adeptly at the block.  
She started to lead the animal towards him, he walked out and intercepted the reins halfway,  
“Allow me, Madam,” he offered, his manners and attention to chivalry ever present.

He turned and lead the bay towards the block, leading it into one of the vacant stables rather than attempt to pass his own, large beast who was becoming rather short tempered due to not being unsaddled – he was an intelligent animal who knew that after a ride, once in a stableblock, his saddle and harness should be removed!

As he finished fastening the reins of the bay, satisfied that the animal could not escape he turned and found Lady Sarah standing very close to him, almost preventing him from leaving the stables, his only option the rear end of his own horse or a vacant stable, clearly made ready for one of the horses’ return as it was lavishly filled with fresh straw.  
“If you will excuse me, Madam,” he suggested, inclining his head as he removed his hat and dragged one of his hands through his hair to loosen it from the flattened, slightly sweaty style it had created as he rode.  
“Oh, but I’d like to thank you, Colonel…..for helping me so adeptly just now, and earlier…..you have quite the most capable hands!” she purred, moving in such a way as to cause the Colonel to back his way towards the vacant stable.

He felt his breathing hitch as she pressed herself closer to him, quite brazenly.  
“I’m glad to have been of service to you, Madam……however I should not wish to impose upon your reputation by lingering further,” and he made to move away from her towards the courtyard on his right.  
“But I insist, Colonel Strike,” and she placed a hand on his chest forcefully pressing back, causing him to slightly over balance with his weight mainly on his weakened right leg.  
He fell backwards into the straw and a giggling Sarah Shadlock observed his legs, encased in their tight, buff breeches, splayed awkwardly and his arms wide to break his fall.

“Madam……please….forgive me, but I should call for a stablehand,” and he scrambled himself upright, brushing down his clothes as he heard thankful, clattering hooves in the yard outside.  
A moment longer and lord knows what Lady Sarah would have attempted!

He smoothed down his coat before striding out of the low doorway.  
He was greeted by Matthew de Cunliffe, Nicholas Herbert and Venetia Ellacott, clearly breathless having outgalloped his wife and her brother.  
His appearance from the stable startled them a little, and Venetia regarded his somewhat ruffled expression and clothing; she could see small pieces of straw in his dark hair.  
A moment later Lady Sarah Shadlock’s voice pierced the air, just prior to her hoving into view through the same doorway.  
“Colonel Strike……you forgot your hat!” 

Venetia had already been thinking all manner of ideas in her head given her recent discovery that he was a man who did not wish to marry…..and now here he was, exiting a stable block, covered in straw, clothing askance, his hat being brandished aloft by Lady Sarah Shadlock.

Colonel Strike knew what she must be thinking…..what Nicholas must be thinking, certainly what Matthew would be thinking! 

What the hell was the issue with these blasted stables?!

He winced, turned and retrieved his hat and strode on, past Venetia and Nicholas, past a smirking Matthew de Cunliffe, and past Stephen Ellacott and Ilsa Herbert as they rode in.

Sarah Shadlock flashed a leering grin towards their host, “I won, Mr de Cunliffe!” and she moved her gaze to the narrowed eyes of Miss Ellacott, “Such comfortable stables too!”

Venetia somehow managed to maintain composure; although inwardly she felt broken, empty….and in need of……something…..someone.


	22. May you endeavour to deserve her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, cards on the table time.....YOU WILL HATE ME FOR THIS CHAPTER!  
> However, in my defence blame JK....it's canon!!!  
> Cormoran's swearing is in keeping with language from the time too!

Colonel Strike ignored the pain from his right leg and strode into the house and up the sweeping staircase 2 treads at a time.  
He managed to hold his tongue until he was through the door to his room, but erupted as soon as the wood slammed behind him:  
“FUCK! Damn that fucking man and that fucking whore of a woman!” he snarled, ripping off his coat and throwing it powerfully across the room to land in a heap by the window.

Shanker appeared from the adjoining room, a placid and calm expression on his face, which was marginally annoying to the Colonel in his current state.  
Cormoran paced the floor, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side, small fragments of straw dropping from him and noted by his valet who was trying to surmise a logical explanation for his master’s obvious agitation.

“She’s going to think…..FUCK!” he erupted again, this time bringing his fist down resoundingly on the wooden sideboard.  
“Anything I can do, Sir?” Shanker asked calmly.  
The Colonel regarded the small man ruefully, “I’d ask you to kill someone if I thought it would help,” he muttered, dragging his hand through his unruly hair and wincing as he dislodged more pieces of straw.

He slumped down on the winged armchair beside the writing desk, “How can she not see it in any other way?” he mulled outloud, sighing heavily and accepting the glass of whisky his valet offered him.  
“Sir, I don’t know the full story, but whatever has happened, the truth always finds a way of getting out,” he stated, brushing down the heavy coat his master had discarded.  
The Colonel sipped at his drink and felt the burning warmth of it trickle through his chest.  
He nodded, but his mouth remained pursed in thought.  
“If she will just give me a little time…” his voice trailed to a whisper, “God, I want her to adore me like I adore her…”  
He downed the rest of his drink, “Another!” he instructed and waited as Shanker refilled the glass.  
_____________

The rest of the party made their way into the house and assembled in the parlour where drinks had been set out as well as some small savouries.  
Venetia was not surprised by the absence of Colonel Strike, and in many ways was glad not to have to face him.  
His appearance with Sarah Shadlock purring in pursuit could only have one possible explanation….surely!

She numbly accepted the glass of sherry handed to her by a servant and noticed her brother’s tight lipped expression.  
Matthew de Cunliffe had been side tracked upon entering the parlour by his footman with a selection of letters on a tray.  
He swiped up the one on the top of the pile and had disappeared only to return moments later, glancing at Lady Sarah Shadlock with a grim expression and a thin lipped frown.  
He gulped down a glass of sherry, adjusted his expression and meandered across to Venetia.

“Miss Ellacott, I do not seem to have been particularly attentive towards you today. Forgive me?” he murmured, flashing her a soft curl of his lips and warm gaze.  
“You have been attentive to all of your guests, Sir….I have no particular claim on your time,” she stated, feeling the words within her….no….she had no particular claim on any gentleman’s time, much as she may wish it.

“I wonder, Miss Ellacott….would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the orangery? There is something rather particular I would like to ask you,” and he offered his arm expectantly.  
Venetia was still slightly numb from the events in the stableyard and found herself resting her palm on his, the mere act of which; feeling his strong steadiness under her hand; relaxed and comforted her.  
“Yes, I will,” she stated and the pair walked from the room.

Stephen Ellacott felt a punch to his stomach as he knew the news he would receive upon his sister’s return.

**[I CAN'T HELP THIS NEXT BIT....IT'S CANON OK!]**

Once in the orangery Matthew seated Venetia at a small bench, which could have been designed for the event which followed.  
Dropping to his knee, without preamble of reason he merely asked,  
“Miss Ellacott, would you do me the honour of agreeing to marry me?”

And she responded with the same words she had used when he had asked her to accompany him.

Matthew had then placed a small kiss on her forehead and nodded, “Good. Well….good.”  
Venetia continued to feel numb, but stood as he reached for her hand and smiled without happiness as he lead her back towards the parlour, his voice rising upon entering the room,  
“A celebration is in order! Miss Ellacott has agreed to become my wife!” 

A range of emotions hastily fluttered around the room; from squealing excitement on the part of Sarah Shadlock; shocked bewilderment from Mr and Mrs Herbert; and sullen resignation from Stephen.  
Champagne was drunk before everyone filtered away to dress for the evening.

Matthew clasped Venetia’s hand as she made to leave, "I shall bring a small gift to you later, which I hope will signify my intentions to both you and everyone else.”  
No doubt the ring he offered would be large, and somewhat vulgar for her tastes…..but she would have someone……someone who wanted to be with her.

She did not feel like a recently engaged woman though as she made her way to her room, and once inside, with the door safely closed she sat on her bed and felt heavy tears cascade across her cheeks.

++++++++++

Colonel Strike knew that he had to face everyone again; although part of him wished he could simply lock himself in the library with Miss Ellacott and eat parmesan, share a glass of port and hide behind the curtains as they had done at the Hogarth’s party.

However, he dressed for dinner in his dark blue coat, grey trousers and added his mustard coloured waistcoat plus his usual dab of cologne to his palms before dragging them through his hair and beard.  
He would try to ignore and avoid Sarah Shadlock, and he would try to win back Miss Ellacott’s attention.

Entering the sitting room he could instinctively notice the changed and charged atmosphere.  
Venetia was standing with her arm resting on Matthew, her left hand was being scrutinised by Ilsa Herbert and champagne was being handed around.

“Ah, Colonel Strike…..you do not know our happy news as yet. Miss Ellacott has consented to be my wife!” Matthew announced, narrowing his eyes fractionally and smiling as he saw the momentary flicker of pain behind the Colonel’s eyes.

Cormoran glanced across at Venetia and considered her expression – he could not help but feel that it was not….not the one he would associate with a bride to be.  
He cleared his throat however and extended his hand towards Matthew, who for once found the gesture acceptable and squeezed the firm hand of the Colonel.  
“Then may I offer you my congratulations, Mr de Cunliffe. May you endeavour to deserve her,” he stated, trying to keep his voice calm, “And Miss Ellacott……allow me to share in your happiness,” and he lifted her fingertips and caressed his trembling lips over the soft skin.

Venetia looked up into the deep pools of swirling green peering down at her and felt her lips part.  
“I hope you will be happy,” he almost whispered and released her hand, crossing immediately to the window where he gazed out at the formal gardens and gathered himself.

The pain of his right leg seemed nothing to the actual physical burning in his chest and throat as he tried to prevent himself from erupting with anguish.

Somehow he made his way through the evening; the food at dinnertime tasted bland; the brandy he downed afterwards acting to partially mute his racing thoughts.  
As soon as it was polite he made his excuses and left the gathering, trying to avoid Venetia’s furtive glances, and the more overt ones from Lady Sarah Shadlock.

 

He maintained his composure again until he found his room and closed the door, but unlike earlier he did not erupt with anger and venom, instead he removed his coat, waistcoat and cravat and lay back on the top of the bed covers, staring up at the highly ornate ceiling in his guest room.  
His silence and early arrival back at his rooms was more concerning to Shanker than the behaviour he had witnessed earlier.  
He had seen the man erupt with anger in many situations, and always knew that when he did he would fight his way through and be victorious…..but to see the man so deflated and resigned to whatever was causing him anguish was worrying.

“Is everything settled with Tabley House?” the Colonel asked flatly, not shifting his position.  
“Yes, Sir. I took the liberty of requesting the current staff to remain on in their positions pending your decisions, Sir. You can take up residence at your convenience,” the valet continued to cast furtive, caring glances as he hung the garments his master had removed from his body.  
“I’m leaving first thing. You can follow with my luggage. Good night, Shanker,” Strike stated, signifying that he did not require his valet’s assistance further that evening.  
“Very good Sir,” Shanker nodded, and he left to relocate his own quarters, hearing the news of Matthew de Cunliffe’s impending marriage from several servants.  
The fact that the man was intending to marry Venetia Ellacott made his master’s behaviour fit into place.

In his room, on his bed, the Colonel replayed several scenes from his interactions with Miss Ellacott thus far through his mind.  
Surely he hadn’t completely invented the desirous looks she had given him?  
There had definitely been a connection between them on more than one occasion….but then the whole water trough and stables thing had occurred.  
And then she’d accepted the proposal of Matthew de Cunliffe…..so that was the end of it.

A while later he removed his boots and trousers and stripped the shirt from his back, crawling under the bedsheets in just his braies where he fell into a fitful sleep.

 

Venetia too slept badly. 

The ring on her left hand, a large sapphire surrounded by diamonds of graduating size, was a visual reminder to the fact that she should be ecstatically happy.  
Her brother’s reaction had been stilted and lacking in joy.  
Ilsa and Nicholas’ reactions had been polite…but nothing more.  
Matthew seemed happy….although she noticed that his smile had wavered and altered whenever she had caught him not looking directly at her.

She had disrobed and put on her nightdress and now lay in her bed, staring up at the canopy above.  
Images of Colonel Strike’s eyes peering up from the velvet of her riding habit, the sensation of his strong hands caressing her calf and foot….oh God, what had she done?  
But he had no desire to marry!  
He’d said so!  
And she needed to marry…..didn’t she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stick with me....I HAD to do this.....but she's almost back with her Papa....and he IS going to fix it all....I promise....just not straight away!


	23. A fresh start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never one to make life easy on myself I've given the Colonel a Welsh man servant in his new house....I've written it phonetically in a Welsh accent!  
> I have also realised that I have called his new house the wrong name, so I'll be going back to edit the rest of the story - I misread my scribbled notes!  
> Not much interaction, but a bit of scene setting for the future.  
> Lots of little harks and names linked to Strike popping up too.

When Venetia went down to breakfast she received the news that Colonel Strike had already departed on his way to take possession of his new home north of Masham.  
The rest of the party would be heading off themselves later in the day.  
Matthew would be journeying to his new townhouse in Harrogate where he would be representing his constituency.  
Venetia would be going home!  
To her Papa. 

Suddenly she wished she was there immediately, she needed his counsel, she needed his approval, she needed his soft embrace.

She retired to her rooms to begin the process of tidying away some of her personal items. She had several books which she needed to return to the library, but she also found the folded sketch Colonel Strike had created.  
She stroked her fingertips across the image, and for some reason focussed on the small drawing of the robin in the corner.

Her father called her the name because of her tenacity, her ability to ever persevere when challenges faced her.  
So why had she apparently given in so easily to the prospect of marrying someone that in the cold light of day she realised she didn’t love?

He was certainly respectable enough, and rich enough to mean that she would be comfortable….but he didn’t make her lose her breath when he looked at her….and he didn’t leave sketches of her for her to find…..but, he DID want to marry her, unlike the man who she truly wanted.  
_________  
Matthew gave his wife to be a small kiss on her forehead before she left; he would be setting out later and was unable to escort her home to inform the rest of her family about their news due to his political duties.

The journey towards Keighley was strained.  
Stephen didn’t know what to say to her; he was also dreading having to inform their father of the news.  
He had been in constant postal communication with home and had already informed him that de Cunliffe was in his words, ‘an unworthy and untrustable cad.’  
He’d also introduced the idea of Colonel Strike as a more worthy alternative…..but judging by what he’d seen of him stumbling out of the stables followed by Lady Sarah Shadlock, perhaps he had been mistaken!?

 

The Colonel reached his new property as the evening light was fading.  
He had ridden for the full day, pausing only to rest his horse and eat at midday.  
He wanted distance between his memories of her, and this new property held no such images.  
Maybe he would be able to stabilise his equilibrium.

 

The shape, size and design of the building’s exterior pleased him.  
The dual sweeping staircases leading to the front door where symmetrical and yet their curved shape added interest to the otherwise angular house.  
The porchway lights were lit and the sound of clattering hooves along the gravel path had alerted the footman to his arrival.  
Swinging down from the saddle he strode towards the footman confidently; this was his property; this was a place where he could lick his wounds and forget about Miss Ellacott.

“Good evening, Sir. Can I help you?” the footman asked, clearly flustered about the visitor’s arrival.  
“You are?” asked the Colonel.  
“Barclay, Sir. I’m Second Footman, Sir,” the man held onto the reins of the Colonel’s horse, regarding the giant of a man stood removing his gloves and hat.  
“Barclay? Well then, I am Colonel Strike. I have taken ownership here,” and he strode through the doorway, regarding the impressively tiled classical floor, the central staircase splitting to the left and right and the pleasingly positioned dark wood table where he laid his hat and gloves.

There was a bustling noise to the right and an older man dressed smartly appeared.  
“Good evening, Sir. I assume from your countenance that you are Colonel Strike and new master of Tabley,” he paused for the Colonel to incline his head in agreement. “My name is Hatherill, Sir. I have been butler here for some 20 years, my father had the role before me. Anything you need to know about the house and grounds I will be more than happy to oblige you, Sir.”

The man seemed open and efficient – to have appeared so quickly given that he had no prior knowledge of his arrival showed skill!

The Colonel extended his hand towards the man, who accepted it with the amount of reserve suited to his position.  
“You surmise correctly Hatherill. I am Colonel Cormoran Strike. My valet, Shanker will join me tomorrow and I shall meet the rest of the staff. For now, if you would be so good as to direct me to my rooms; I have ridden all day and desire nothing other than my bed,” and he flashed a soft lipped smile at the butler.  
“If you will follow me, Sir,” and he was led up the staircase, to the left and down a small but wide hallway to a second set of stairs, still equally lavish and carpeted.  
At the top of the staircase he lead the Colonel again to the left and opened a wide, double door which lead into a large bedroom containing an exquisite canopied bed draped in shades of plum, gold and forest green which was set on a raised dais reached by two shallow stairs.  
The other furniture in the room was of dark wood, and comprised a sideboard, a pair of small cabinets beside the bed, a banquette at the base of the bed and a large, oval mirror.

There was a door facing the bed which he could see led through to a further room which was clearly intended as his own dressing space as it contained more dark wood cabinets and wardrobes, a teak wash stand and a padded velvet seat.  
A further doorway in the corner was a ajar and seemed to lead to a private bathing room since he could see it had a stone floor.  
There was a further doorway in the opposite corner of the room which he presumed would be the one through which Shanker could access the space.

“There are fine views from each window, Sir, you’ll be able to take advantage in the morning. I had fires lit earlier Sir and can have one arranged promptly if you wish, Sir,” Hatherill glanced around checking with his scrupulous eye that nothing appeared out of place.

The various trunks and boxes of clothes and personal items had arrived just a day earlier and although he had indicated for it to be unpacked and aired, he had not wished to presume as to how the Colonel would like his rooms arranged.

“A fire will not be necessary, Hatherill, I am quite comfortable already, but some hot water would be helpful, and perhaps a man to assist me this evening, the Colonel requested, pacing around the room in a leisurely manner and feeling how comfortable it seemed.  
“Very good Sir, I will send up Thomas, one of the house servants. And perhaps some refreshment Sir?” Hatherill asked.  
Colonel Strike realised he was actually rather ravenous after his day riding, “Absolutely, although a tray would suit me perfectly this evening….and some wine….and I would like a decanter of whisky over there,” he indicated a sideboard close to the fire in the dressing room area, there was a winged chair and a thoughtfully positioned footstool and it was next to a pair of closed, ceiling height drapes – he surmised he would find an attractive view behind them.

Hatherill left via the main doorway, as was his right as butler and felt pleased that his new master seemed adept at giving orders and making plain requests – it was always simpler when a master had an understanding of the role servants played and simply instructed them so that they could behave in a manner which was conducive to the smooth running of the household.

Left alone in the rooms, Colonel Strike strode through and investigated the small but well equipped bathroom which contained a pleasingly sized copper bathing tub and a rather elaborate commode for his personal use.  
“Hmmm, Shanker will love that!” the Colonel mumbled aloud, grinning as he pictured his valet’s reaction to it!

He wandered back through the dressing area and into the bedroom area as it had more candles lit – Hatherill had adeptly managed to light several on their passing without him noticing where he had sourced the matches from.  
A low cough in the dressing area signified the arrival of another person and he strode through to find a tall, slender man with a face full of freckles.

“Thomas?” the Colonel asked and received a nod in reply as the man deposited a large jug of steaming water on the stand.  
“Yes Sur,” he stated in a highly accented Welsh accent, “Brought you water, there’s more comin’ shortly, Sur and I’ve lifted out some nightclothes from yuur trunks. Shall I help with yuur boots, Sur?” the man indicated the circular velvet seat in the centre of the room.  
“Er, no….I shall see to my own boots Thomas, but if you could arrange some more illumination, and into there too,” the Colonel sat and began the process of removing his left boot, which was a simple affair, and then prizing off his right, which was always more difficult given that his skin was less flexible….he was also self conscious of it and disliked strangers seeing it – this man may at some point be accepted into his confidence, but for now he could be useful engaged in other tasks.

“If you could hang these,” Cormoran indicated the coat and waistcoat he had discarded on the bed, “…and bring me some fresh undergarments.”  
Thomas carried out his tasks efficiently and calmly; presumably all of the staff would be eager to make a positive impression given that Shanker had explained to him that they were only kept on a trial basis. Thus far however the Colonel had no complaints.

He stripped his shirt over his head and went through to relieve his bladder, returning to the washstand to find hot water had been poured into the basin and there were shaving and washing items laid out for him.  
He applied his preferred soap to a cloth, removed his braies and washed himself in a practised and efficient manner, being sure to wash and clean the areas which had been in contact with his saddle for most of the day…..and he tried not to think of Miss Ellacott as he did so.

Thomas left him alone and busied himself in the bedroom area, leaving at some point to return with a tray containing the decanter of whisky, glasses and a carafe of water which he set out on the sideboard Strike had indicated to Hatherill.  
Once clad in fresh braies, a crisp, linen nightshirt and his familiar long, deep crimson dressing gown he felt comfortable and as relaxed as he could feel given that he was still coming to terms with a broken heart.

Thomas made light work of clearing up and, without his master being aware of how or where it had come from, had set up a small table close to the winged chair in the dressing room.  
Cormoran was briefly aware of a rumble of voices and a second male servant; possibly even Barclay who had greeted him, brought in a tray and set it down on the table.  
Thomas rearranged the items slightly before coughing and approaching the Colonel in the bedroom, who had located one of the smaller boxes containing personal items and was rifling through the papers and books it contained.  
“Sur, you will find refreshments in the dressin’ room. You can ring hyur,” he indicated a tasselled rope “if you require anything further, or if you wish me to clear,” Thomas explained in his relaxing Welsh lilt.

Colonel Strike sat in the comfortable chair and had his fill of an assortment of cooked meats, pickles, pies and cheeses, as well as a good quantity of decent wine.  
He did not think about Miss Ellacott….not until his eyes drifted to the candles illuminating the room.  
Then his thoughts instantly flicked back to the memory of sitting beside her in the candlelit garden of her husband to be’s large house in Newark.  
He had dared to hope…..


	24. Make her think twice.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Right....you've all endured 40,000 words, and we finally have a teeny bit of smut - although by my standards it is quite restrained....a little bit of the Colonel making himself happy!  
> Daddy Ellacott gets involved and stirs things up a little....and Shanker does his bit too!

The Ellacott’s carriage eventually drew up outside the large, but homely manor which belonged to her parents, and which she had grown up in.  
It was evening, the light just fading, but she recognised the size and shape of the familiar building and smiled a true, joy-filled smile for the first time since….well, since she’d said ‘I will’ to Matthew de Cunliffe.

Her brother clambered down and reached back to assist his sister and by the time he had done so a gentleman was bounding down the steps towards them, hastily brushing Stephen aside and engulfing Venetia in an embrace worthy of poetry itself.

The man was tall with a barrel chest and gently expanding belly.  
His hair, although tinted grey at the temples was still lustrous and long enough to tickle his collar.  
Clear and vibrant blue eyes gazed across his daughter’s features as he relaxed his arms around her, holding her shoulders at arms length.

“My Robin has flown back to me at last,” he sighed, burying his face in her bonnet once more before finally turning his attention to his eldest son.  
“Stephen, my boy….thank you for bringing her back to us….back home,” and he smiled, noting the slightly shameful look which skudded across his son's face.

The moment was broken by a large, chocolate coloured Labrador bounding out of the house, tail wagging, jaw slack and playful.  
“Rowntree!” Venetia squealed, and she bent to smother the trusty dog with affection.  
In doing so her left hand flashed with the large gemstone upon it.  
“Robin? What…..you have news?” Michael Ellacott asked, glancing quickly between his daughter and son.

“Yes, father….I accepted a proposal of marriage yesterday evening,” she twisted her lip between her teeth trying to judge her father’s reaction.  
“Really? And to whom have you agreed to give yourself?” he asked with narrowed eyes, catching Stephen’s firm lips and pained expression.  
“Mr Matthew de Cunliffe, father…..he is very respectable and would have accompanied us except that he has business with his constituency…..he will live in Harrogate father….so I shall be always close by,” she explained, almost pleading him with her eyes to be happy for her.

“de Cunliffe?” her father repeated, casting Stephen a quizzical frown; his son shrugged and shook his head minimally.  
Venetia’s mother and younger brother made their appearance at this stage, Mrs Ellacott grasping her daughter to her warmly.  
“What’s this my darling? You are engaged to be married?” she asked excitedly.  
Venetia nodded and displayed the sapphire ring for her to see.  
“Dearest girl……oh, I hope you will be very happy…..is he handsome, and kind?” she asked, with shining eyes.  
“He’s very handsome Mama….and highly respectable,” she replied, but she saw the shared wince between her eldest brother and father.  
“And when shall we meet him?” her father asked, slightly brusquely Venetia felt…although yes, she had to admit that perhaps Matthew should have ensured he sought her father’s permission to marry her before making his proposal.  
“He has some business to attend to in Harrogate, but did assure me before we left that he would call within the week, Sir,” Stephen stated sullenly.  
“Very well…..I assume an announcement has not been made officially as yet…..we’ll wait until I have seen him,” and he gave Venetia a look which showed his concern for her hasty behaviour, but his fondness for her as his beloved daughter.

Once inside the house, Mrs Ellacott accompanied Venetia to her room and the pair set about catching up on gossip and news from both their shared acquaintances in London and Keighley.  
Michael Ellacott however took Stephen to his study, and after a brief discussion dismissed him to his wife, and set about writing a letter.

 

Colonel Strike passed a busy few days in his new property, familiarising himself with the land, the building and making a list of jobs which needed attending to – first of which was improving the state of two of the worker’s cottages on the land, which he described as ‘inhuman’ – within the day repairs had been started to the roof of one and the window panes of the second.  
He was greatly admired by the staff employed, and he made himself more popular by openly stating that he saw no reason not to maintain all of their positions.  
The house was staffed with an appropriate and not excessive level of help, and he had enough of an income to support their wages and roles.

He inspected the stables and requested for further horses to be added to them, which also required the employment of an additional stable boy – making the current groom extraordinarily happy as his eldest son was able to take up the post.  
His activities were keeping his mind and body occupied so that he didn’t dwell on Miss Ellacott.

Until a letter arrived.

He opened it along with the rest of his daily post – word was getting around about his arrival and invitations for a single man of wealth were plentiful!  
The letter was written in a sweeping, highly individual script.

It was a plain, but eloquent invitation for him to visit the Ellacott home.  
It mentioned that Stephen had enthused about his company and interest in the mills and factories, and also that he would be pleased to introduce the Colonel to families in the Keighley area who may be useful, as several had sons eager to join the militia as officers.  
It was signed with a flourish, Michael Ellacott.

The Colonel assumed that Miss Ellacott would be spending some time at home; but also assumed that Mr de Cunliffe would be making his presence felt – certainly if for no other reason than to ingratiate himself with Venetia’s father!  
But perhaps she would be spending time at Mr de Cunliffe’s Harrogate home?  
She might not even be there at the Ellacott house!

The arrival of the letter coincided with one from none other than Lady Sarah Shadlock; wondering if it would be acceptable for her and a small party to take advantage of his hospitality on their way up to Scotland.  
He hastily left instructions for Hatherill to respond to the latter, stating plainly that unfortunately the master would be away for several days and unable to host their party.

He would instead face Miss Ellacott again – he had to - and she was engaged now, so that would act as a barrier to his emotions…..plus he had enjoyed Stephen’s company, and the prospect of being able to mould and advise new officer material was interesting to his military mind.

He therefore called Shanker, “I am away to Keighley….to the Ellacott’s for a day or so…..one night at the least with a formal dinner. You’ll pack something …..eye-catching,” he instructed.  
His valet grinned and waggled his eyebrows, sensing the undertone in the Colonel’s speech – he wanted to look good; possibly to give him added confidence in being around a woman who he had lost, but possibly to make her sit up and realise what she had let go.

“Very good Sir, I’ll have it sent today…..are you taking the carriage, Sir?” he asked.  
“No, I’ll ride….exercise is doing me good,” he answered, knowing that in actual fact he wanted to avoid a carriage ride where he would be forced to be bored, and think about all the possible reasons why he should avoid the meeting. “If you could send word on today to Mr Ellacott, I shall draft a letter,” the Colonel announced and scripted a polite, concise response which was sent with his packed trunk a short while later.

The Colonel had already accepted an invitation to a small dinner with neighbours in Masham and he passed a pleasant evening discussing local events and activities with the Broadhurst family – Mr Broadhurst was the owner of a large sheep farm and had a practical, no nonsense manner which the Colonel liked.  
His three daughters were pretty and charming, although one smiled a little too much, one was a little too serious and the third was just a little too young to be of romantic interest to him – but he was his charming and polite self.  
He left promising a reciprocation of their generosity as soon as his household was settled.

Dreams of Miss Ellacott invaded his sleep – as they had been doing for several nights.  
It was his own fault for having positioned the pastel sketch of her on his dresser; her image was the last thing he gazed upon each night and obviously infiltrated his imagination.  
His recurring dream was of them chasing each other through a field of golden straw.  
He would eventually catch her, wrestle her to the ground and they would wrap their bodies around each other, kissing languidly with the sun beating on their backs.  
On this occasion however the dream took an added delve into his sub conscious, as he found himself crawling his way down her slender body on the ground, his hands sliding up the soft muslin of her gown, feeling the shapely calf and ankle that he had felt within her riding boot and seen flashed at him on the window seat at the Hogarth’s party.  
The dream progressed with him caressing his tongue against the soft skin of her inner thighs, towards her intimate core…… before he woke with a startled jump, sweat on his brow, his breathing sharp and laboured and a stiffness within his braies.

Apparently an engagement ring was not the barrier to his emotions that he thought!

After trying and failing to resume sleep, he took advantage of the sultry light and removed his firmness the best way he knew how…..biting back her name as he spent himself liberally, groaned and rolling onto his belly, his fingers twitching still at the thought of her warm body beside him.

.....she may well belong to another in the cold light of day.......but in the sultry, dark hours thoughts of her could be his.

______  
The ride to Keighley would take a few hours, but it was a dry Thursday and the roads he would take were in good repair.  
He dressed smartly in cream breeches and his second, recently commissioned coat – a deep burgundy wool with a startling lighter crimson lining.  
He added a highly embroidered waistcoat of black and his riding boots, naturally.  
Teamed with his tall black, silk top hat and black gloves he was pleased with his appearance.

After a hearty breakfast he made his leave, Shanker watched from the window of his dressing room.  
“Go on, Sir….make her think twice!” he said aloud.


	25. I am in your debt, Sir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yep, two chapters in one day!  
> In this we see the Colonel reach the Ellacott home in the nick of time......to rescue Venetia.  
> We have fainting, we have a delicious little homage to one of my fav scenes from Sense and Sensibility (Hattie Morahan version), the Colonel scooping Venetia into his arms......*sigh

The ride was pleasant.  
He considered that it was an easy distance in good weather….one which would certainly be acceptable if Miss Ellacott were to…….NO! he could not think about possibilities like that!  
She was engaged.  
A barrier existed which he had to uphold….no matter how much he desired her, no matter how much he wanted to wrap his arms around her and press his lips against her full, rose coloured ones.

 

Life at the Ellacott house had an odd rhythm to it.  
On the one hand, Mrs Ellacott was excitedly planning events and parties to celebrate her daughter’s impending engagement announcement.  
On the other hand Mr Ellacott and Stephen….and Martin, were being rather furtive.  
Hushed conversations ceased when either Venetia or Mrs Ellacott approached.

The trunk and letter signifying the impending arrival of their guest made Mr Ellacott exchange a raised eyebrow with his sons….and Rowntree received an extra, tasty scrap of roast beef passed from Mr Ellacott’s hand under the table, for some reason…..Mrs Ellacott considered her husband’s demeanour.  
“What news has made you so happy, husband?” she enquired once they had left the table and were walking towards the morning room they shared in order to complete their daily correspondence.  
“I have received some pleasing news…..I think anyway,” he smiled blithely. “Prepare a decent luncheon, I have reason to believe we shall have a guest….and have a bed made ready too.”  
“Ahh, are we finally to meet our daughter’s husband to be?” she asked with delight – she had been slightly perturbed by her husband’s lack of enthusiasm for Venetia’s news; although she knew that no man would ever be considered good enough to whisk her away from him in his eyes, so the fact that he wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about Mr de Cunliffe wasn’t a complete surprise.  
“I think we may!” Michael Ellacott twinkled at his wife. “Come on Rowntree, let’s see if we can find a lovely patch of mud for you to roll in!” he said enthusiastically, his letters could wait!

 

Venetia Ellacott had spent the early afternoon visiting the family of one of the old mill workers – sadly Old Will had passed away; he was 83 and it had been very sudden. But Venetia had known him all her life, and she had taken a basket to the family and sat with them whilst they talked about their shared memories.

She felt rather wistful as she walked back towards her home.  
It was warm, and as she was almost home she had removed her bonnet, swinging it lightly from the ribbons as she walked, the gemstones on her engagement ring flashing in the sunshine.  
Up ahead she thought she saw a movement by the side of the track and glanced behind her, feeling a slight chill of uneasiness.  
She saw nothing however and continued on her way.

Less than a count of twenty later she let out a muffled scream as she felt herself grasped roughly from behind. A strong, dirty arm clasped hers to her sides and lifted her from the ground, her feet kicking out as the other hand clamped across her mouth to silence her.  
She wriggled and writhed as the attacker tried to bundle her towards the bushes, however Venetia had two older brothers who had wrestled and played with her in a manner which would be considered unladylike, but which was very much to her service presently.  
She angled her booted foot and brought it back to contact firmly with her assailant’s shin, making him buckle up and relax his grip enough for her to scream for assistance and release one arm. 

She twisted around and caught the man’s swarthy face with her finger nails, but received a resounding slap to her cheek and felt as if fire had streaked her face.  
The ruffian spoke harshly,  
“I’ll take that ring, and no harm will come to yee.”  
“No!” shouted Venetia, although the man overpowered her again and wrestled her beneath his arm so that he could twist the ring from her hand painfully, causing further squeals from Venetia as she struggled further and again kicked out, making contact with the man’s legs.

He pushed her roughly to the ground before beginning to scamper off when the air was pierced by a deafening crack.  
The attacker screamed as his right hand flew up, dropping the ring as blood splashed from the wound caused by a pistol shot, but he continued to run, not bothering to stop to pick up the object of his venture.

“Miss Ellacott?” Colonel Strike was upon her, his smoking pistol clasped in his hand, his horse whinnying closeby, his full attention held by Venetia’s appearance on the rough ground; his expression one of deep concern and anguish for her condition.  
“Can you get your hands around my neck?” he asked softly and saw her nod through tear filled eyes.

Swiping up the discarded ring, he attached his pistol to his rear belt and scooped his arms beneath Venetia’s knees and around her slender body.  
She made an effort to assist him by placing her limp arms around his neck, but having found the soft hair at the nape of his collar she had suddenly become overwhelmed and fainted in his arms.  
She lay limply, her neck extended back to expose a swath of creamy skin from neck to the edge of her gown.  
Strike realised he was panting, partly from the exertion of flinging himself from his horse and rushing to her, partly from the adrenaline of firing a pistol with specific purpose and partly from the fact that his hands were splayed against Miss Ellacott’s body, and in his haste he realised that the left was grasping close to the soft heaven of her breast.

The noise and gunshot had alerted the Ellacott men and they hurried now from the gate, Stephen instantly recognising Colonel Strike.

“She’s been attacked, I shot the man in the hand….he ran off that way….I’m sure he’ll be easy enough to locate….follow the blood!” the Colonel breathed heavily, only just realising the full extent of what he had witnessed as he rode up to the house.  
He had watched Venetia scrap and fight for her life in a manner which only made him admire her more.  
But now, here she was, unconscious in his arms, with a vicious red welt appearing on her cheek and blood trickling from a cut to her temple.  
But he had her…….she would be safe.

“This way Colonel, please,” Stephen Ellacott indicated the shortest route into the house, once through the doors a shrieking Mrs Ellacott was bundled away by her younger son to allow the strapping man to deposit Venetia on a low couch.

Without thinking about propriety the Colonel immediately began to tug at the fastenings of her jacket, muttering blindly, “She needs air! She needs these loosened!”  
His fingers grazed roughly, almost shamelessly against her ribs and neckline as he unfastened the trio of buttons which fastened her pale blue spencer.  
His fingertips were perilously close to her breasts, although as he acted his thought were not of a sexual nature in any form.  
He continued murmuring “she needs to breathe, these things are too tight,” as he tugged roughly at the lacings of her gown, his teeth gritted and lips pressed in trembling emotion.

Within a few moments however he remembered himself, and who he was….and who she was and glanced across to a startled, but impressed looking Michael Ellacott.

“Forgive me…….you’ll forgive me,” he panted, standing and moving aside so that Mrs Ellacott could administer soothing movements and noises around her daughter.

The Colonel strode outside, realising that his horse was abandoned on the road, as was his hat.  
Stephen Ellacott paused him as he made to exit, with a firm hand on the man’s shoulder:  
“Horse has been taken to the stables, hat’s in the hallway….now sit and calm down….and tell me what you can remember.”  
The Colonel took a deep breath and unhitched his pistol before he sat on a sturdy and serviceable chair in the hallway.  
He was slightly aware of Michael Ellacott wandering to the doorway; he was listening to and observing the man as he spoke.

“I was approaching along the road and saw a scuffle; at first sight it appeared to be a pair engaged in a brawl….your sister’s fists and feet were flying and caught the assailant several times!” he glanced up at Stephen, an admiring smile behind his eyes and twisted on his lips.  
He continued, “Then it became clear it was a female; I heard her shout and as I got closer, I could see it was Miss Ellacott…..I recognised her hair…..she scratched his face…he was wounded before I shot….but he grabbed for her engagement ring and overpowered her. By the time I dismounted and aimed I caught his hand as he ran off, and obviously my concern moved to Miss Ellacott. She was initially conscious, but fainted in my arms I’m afraid,” he dragged his large hand through his ruffled curls, his normally rigid shoulders slumping slightly as the adrenaline rush began to fade.

Michael Ellacott took this opportunity of walking across towards him, and Cormoran instinctively stood for the older gentleman.  
“My daughter is in your debt……I am in your debt, Sir,” and he stretched out his hand warmly.  
“Father…..may I introduce Colonel Cormoran Strike,” Stephen Ellacott could not prevent a smile finding his mouth as the tall man accepted the handshake of his father.

From the nextdoor room small, soft, feminine sounds were heard. Mr Ellacott went to investigate his daughter’s health.  
She was lying back on the sofa, propped up on the cushions and cautiously blinking herself back to full consciousness.  
She forced a small smile from her lips as her mother dabbed at the cut to her forehead with a piece of muslin,  
“I kicked his shins and scratched his face Father…..just like I used to do to Martin,” and she giggled slightly as her Father flashed her an amused face of mock horror.  
“What have I raised?” he cheerfully grinned, “It’s a wonder anyone’ll have you!” and he crossed to press a small kiss against her cheek, wincing as he noticed the angry red mark on the other.

A huge figure appeared, almost filling the doorway, his face lined with concern, his eyes hooded with the effort of supressing his emotions.  
Venetia saw him and gave him the sweetest, most pure smile, “Colonel Strike…..you arrived just in time.”  
He exhaled sharply at the sound of his name on her lips again, “I would have preferred to arrive moments earlier, and spare you injury…..and spare the shot!” and he twisted his lips into an off centred, charmingly soft smirk.  
“Did you hit him?” she asked, trying to sit up slightly, but urged to remain recumbent by her mother.  
The Colonel gave a slight shrug of mock self effacement, “Of course I did…..you’ve seen me shoot….I never miss,” he growled; his deep baritone seeming to soothe Venetia deep within.

She made a soft whimpering sound in her chest and felt her eyelids fluttering closed.  
“Don’t you go to sleep, my little Robin. Drink this first,” her father handed her a glass of brandy which she dutifully sipped, wincing at the strong taste.  
“I’m sorry that my frock got muddy, Mama,” she whispered, her eyes finding the warm intense gaze of the Colonel again and glowing when they did so.

Colonel Strike suddenly realised he had something in his hand and softly crossed to where Venetia lay.  
He crouched on his haunches, his right leg hitched out awkwardly, in the same manner it had been the first time she met him.  
“You seem to have mislaid this,” he stated, holding the sapphire encrusted ring out to her and seeing the tears which had been threatening to fall on the roadside finally overwhelm her eyes and trickle across her cheeks. 

“There now,” her mother cooed, “Everything will be fine my dear.”  
“I shall take my leave,” Colonel Strike rose and made to leave the room.  
“Please stay, Colonel,” Venetia asked, her voice quivering.


	26. Rowntree approves of him!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, a little reward for keeping going with me on this one.  
> The Colonel sorts out the magistrate and freshens himself up at the Ellacott's house.....Venetia gets a delicious view of him through the window!

“Of course he’s staying!” her father interjected, “I invited him for luncheon…..and he saved your life….the least we can do is feed him! Although by the size of ‘im he might eat us out of house and home!” and he clapped the Colonel solidly on the back and dragged him out of the room, calling for Rowntree as he took the Colonel into his study.

Luncheon was served an hour later and Venetia was recovered enough to assume her place at the table.

Word had been sent to the house that the attacker had been detained; the magistrate would need to speak to Venetia and if possible Colonel Strike at their earliest convenience to proceed with the matter.  
“Surely there won’t be any need for me to appear in the courts?” Venetia stated, looking quite flustered by the prospect.  
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary Miss Ellacott. Perhaps my word alone will suffice since I had a clear view of the main events,” Colonel Strike offered as he accompanied Mrs Ellacott into the pleasantly appointed dining room of the family home.

The meal was an informal affair with communal discussion involving everyone simultaneously – matters related to the mill were given the same degree of merit as local gossip, house furnishings and the tastiness of the food.  
Colonel Strike felt very welcomed and very much ‘at home’ and the fact that Venetia continued to flash him warm and deeply sensual glances, especially when he spoke, was serving to chip away at the barrier he had sworn existed between them.

She noticed how animated and almost fidgety he became when he spoke about matters which interested him – he explained about his new home and the fact that he wished to redesign several rooms to create a larger and airier library and study for example.  
When he was listening however, he was extremely focussed and serious, able to ask relevant questions and make thought provoking comments.

He noticed that she had not replaced her engagement ring!

He dared to hope.

Perhaps her father had said no to the match?

In the study he had talked with Michael Ellacott about a range of matters; mainly linked to the possible careers of some local young men – a couple of whom were officer material and a couple of whom Mr Ellacott felt would benefit greatly from the routine and purpose of a military life.  
The Colonel had agreed to take them all under his wing upon taking up his role at Catterick the following week.  
During the conversation Mr Ellacott had been assessing the Colonel for himself.  
His son’s opinion rated highly with him, and he had said the man was infinitely more meritable than the damn de Cunliffe chap his daughter had accepted.  
He had asked about the size of his new property and whether the Colonel had plans to settle in the area as a result of it’s purchase.  
The military man had answered honestly and somewhat mysteriously, that his intention was to settle and spend the rest of his career involved in guiding and supporting the next generation of military minds; his fighting days were over, his injury had seen to that, and he now wished to develop ‘other aspects of my life more fully.’

Michael Ellacott was satisfied that the man was a more than suitable proposition for his daughter; the man was a mountain of muscle, acted swiftly and practically, could string a coherent conversation together and, possibly most importantly, Rowntree appeared to adore him – Mr Ellacott set quite a sway by who his favourite dog took a liking to; and the fact that the animal had curled across the Colonel’s booted feet under the table was a major bonus!

Once luncheon was completed, Mrs Ellacott suggested that her daughter lie down to recover; word was sent from the magistrate that he would like to speak with the Colonel; possibly negating the need to speak with Miss Ellacott, and of course Cormoran was eager to oblige. 

Following directions from Stephen he rode the short distance into the town and located the magistrate; a sombre, grey haired man with a stern profile.  
He spent some time explaining in detail what he had witnessed, showed his pistol and verified to the magistrate’s satisfaction that he had fired with precision and for the purpose of detaining the assailant rather than killing him.  
After describing the nature of Miss Ellacott’s injuries, and verifying that she would shortly recover fully he bid the man good day and took the news back to the Ellacott’s property that her statement would not be necessary if she would simply read and sign the copy of his own as verification and the business of charging the attacker and his punishment could be concluded without her having to distress herself.

Whilst he was away, Stephen, Martin and their father discussed the issue of Venetia’s engagement.  
They agreed that pending the man actually meeting with Mr Ellacott, they would not announce the engagement, nor would they start making plans.  
Stephen shared his concerns regarding the Colonel’s somewhat dubious heritage and the ‘stable’ incident.  
His father listened carefully and pondered the information – it undoubtedly put his character into question; but he couldn’t help but like the man!

The Colonel returned and shared his update regarding the attack on Venetia, Michael was further impressed, especially as his first comments following the news was to enquire as to whether Venetia was feeling recovered.  
Having received a satisfactory response he requested to be shown to his room so that he could freshen himself before the evening.  
Stephen took the opportunity of showing their guest to one of the rooms which had been prepared for him.  
“I’ll ask Simms to bring up hot water for you…..and, thank you, for what you did for my sister….I’m glad it was you who was visiting and not….well, someone else,” he stated before closing the door behind him.

The Colonel surveyed the guestroom.  
It was comfortable, well maintained and had a pretty view of the garden to the rear of the property.  
He stood there now and saw Rowntree bounding across the lawn, twirling and turning back to the property and barking excitedly.  
A second or so later Venetia hove into view, she had changed her gown to the same pale eau de nil one which he had first seen her in when he had almost pushed her down the stairs in the tearoom in London.  
A dove grey coloured shawl was draped around her shoulders and she was almost scampering after the chocolate Labrador, a stick held in her hands which the dog kept mouthing at as she toyed with it, pretending to throw it for the animal.

Cormoran found himself inhaling deeply as he gazed down at her.

She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen….and yes he’d thought that was a phrase he would only ever use to describe Charlotte Campbell….but Venetia had a glow; an aura of ‘goodness’ and joy which oozed from her.  
A warmth had spread throughout his body as he observed her, an unmistakable stiffness within his breeches.  
His thoughts drifted back to the feel of her slight frame in his arms earlier – the fact that one of his hands had delved beneath the skirt of her dress, and that the other had been grazing against her ribcage and soft breast made him clench and stretch out the hand beside him, imagining the sensation again in his palm.  
Lord, if there wasn’t a servant on the way with hot water he’d have been using that hand in a most inappropriate manner for standing in front of a window!

Venetia was still leaping around on the lawn with the dog, stepping backwards rapidly as Rowntree grasped the stick in his jaw with her holding either side.  
She was giggling and wrinkling her nose.  
He noticed the red mark on her cheek, but other than that she seemed unaffected by her unpleasant experience earlier……but she still had not replaced her engagement ring!

The Colonels’ intense focus on Miss Ellacott was interrupted by a knock and the entrance of a middle aged, male servant - presumably Simms – carrying a large jug of steaming water.  
“Thank you,” the Colonel smiled broadly.  
“Anything else you need, Colonel? I’ve hung your clothes and steamed the creases from your waistcoat…..a beautiful garment Sir!” the man smiled and set the jug down on the washstand.

Strike moved across to the wardrobe and glanced at Shanker’s selection – the grey silk waistcoat covered in embroidered Forget-me-nots was hanging alongside his favourite deep grey, striped trousers and black coat.  
He smirked….Shanker had clearly taken his request to look eye catching seriously. 

“I have everything I require….for now,” he stated and made it clear that he intended to begin undressing and washing.  
Simms left the room, clicking the door closed behind him.  
The Colonel pulled off his boots, coat and waistcoat and pulled the cravat from his neck.  
He loosened his shirt and unbuttoned his breeches, easing them past his one muscled calf and the other, wasted and scarred one.  
Finally he pulled the linen shirt over his head and stood before the washstand.  
He poured water into the bowl and located his soap and a cloth before washing his hands, arms and shoulders, dragging the hot, sandalwood scented cloth across the back of his neck before rinsing it and repeating the action, this time trailing the cloth across his chest, feeling his nipples harden with the touch of the water as he smoothed the fabric across himself.

 

Out in the garden Miss Ellacott was making her way back to the house; the air and activity having refreshed her after her nap.  
The events of earlier in the day had shocked her, but she was a practical and unhysterical female; she wasn’t injured, not really, and fortunately the Colonel had arrived to see off the attacker.  
She had been thinking about the last thoughts she had had before she blacked out – she remembered him bending over her on the ground; his arms sliding around and under her, cupping her body into his chest, feeling his broad masculine firmness pressed so closely to her own body, the ridiculously seductive scent of fresh sweat, musky cologne and tobacco invading her senses.  
She knew that she had attempted to clasp around his neck, but that as her fingers had found the soft curls above his collar she had become light headed and remembered no more.

Now she was walking across the lawn towards the house and glancing up at her familiar home.  
Catching her breath she paused, almost frozen apart from her jaw slackening, as she caught sight of Colonel Strike through the window of his guest bedroom.  
She should have dragged her gaze away and taken herself inside…..but she found she couldn’t…..she couldn’t stop staring at the image of alluring masculinity who was oblivious to her attention.

She watched as the loosened shirt was pulled above his head, displaying his broad, muscular shoulders as he turned to discard it.  
She watched as he lifted the water jug, noticing how his upper arm muscles bulged and flexed with the weight.  
She gasped as he took a cloth and dragged it across one arm and then the other; then as he dampened the cloth again she made a small sob in her throat as he rubbed at his neck, his neck tilting and flexing into the sensation.  
She realised a warmth spreading through her belly and between her legs as he trailed the cloth across his darkly haired chest.  
She had seen that sculpted body through an almost transparent shirt, but the sight of it naked, with the hairs clearly forming curling clumps as they became wet, and then his dark nipples stiffening was alarmingly real, and unmistakably masculine.

She shouldn’t be looking…….but she couldn’t stop, she physically couldn’t make her legs move, and when she saw him rinse the cloth and drag it below the level of the window she almost lost control of her limbs.

She couldn’t see where his hand was moving the cloth on his body, but she could see his neck falling back on his shoulders and his lips parting slightly….and she’d certainly seen sculptures depicting the male anatomy in the museums of London! That cloth was clearly in contact with.....that incredibly manly part of him.  
Gosh

She felt a hot, moist, velvety sensation at the fingers of her right hand and jolted herself from her frozen delirium, “Oh....Rowntree, it's you!…..come along……I need to…..get inside,” she murmured, and she made her way through to the parlour where she poured herself a glass of sherry, drinking it down in two mouthfuls.

“You quite well my dear?” her father came upon her moments later, her cheeks flushed and a slight shimmering sweat across her brow.  
“Yes, just slightly out of breath…..Rowntree was quite excitable,” she commented, smoothing her slightly damp palms across the skirt of her gown.  
“Let me look at you,” he crossed to her and held her firmly at arms length, regarding the small cut to the side of her head which had congealed to a small husk of dried blood nicely; and the angry looking red welt to the side of her cheek. “Hmmmm, you’ll do!” and he pressed a tender kiss to the tip of her nose.

He poured himself a glass of sherry and sat on the large wing backed chair he preferred.  
Venetia cast her gaze slightly upwards, imagining the Colonel in the rooms above and sighed as she sank down onto the sofa.


	27. Don't you agree Miss Ellacott?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I got slightly carried away watching all the lovely interviews with Mr B at Sundance and noticed how he is so fidgety when he speaks and so still when he listens....so I lobbed that in.  
> I also thought it hilarious to name the Parker children Charles and Camilla!  
> Oh, and Venetia lets her thoughts and fingers wander in the privacy of her own bedroom later!

Martin joined them in the parlour soon after, then Stephen and Jennifer joined the discussion about what would happen to Venetia’s attacker now that Colonel Strike had given his statement.  
Venetia had signed it as an accurate rendition of what had occurred and as far as she was concerned the issue was finished.  
She felt a level of concern about the man who had felt the need to act in such a manner – he was clearly penniless. However, there was muted agreement from the rest of the room – for the men of the Ellacott household they would have preferred the assailant to be flogged for daring to harm her, and Jennifer was of the opinion that the man should be sent to the colonies!

As Venetia was expressing her opinion and concern over how the state of the economy meant that more and more people were on the streets and penniless; based on what she had seen in certain parts of London, the Colonel cleared his throat and entered the room.  
Venetia paused mid-sentence as she took in his handsome appearance and tried not to visualise his naked torso instead of the silk and wool clad version standing before her.  
“Don’t let me interrupt….far be it from me to incur your anger, Miss Ellacott….especially considering the way you deal with those who try,” and he smirked his crinkle eyed grin at her.  
“Good evening Colonel, maybe you could offer some kudos to my statement…..did it not concern you to witness some of the deprivation visible in London due to poor wages and work conditions?” she asked, immediately engulfing him into the middle of the conversation.

The Colonel politely greeted Stephen’s wife in his customary manner as he formulated a reply to Venetia’s comment; simultaneously moving across to sit beside her on the sofa, which was the most appropriate available seat.  
He launched immediately into his response in his usual animated fashion when talking; his hands gesticulating to make his points.  
Venetia almost muted out his actual rumbling voice as she sat transfixed by imagining what she knew lay beneath the perfectly fitting silk of his waistcoat.

“Don’t you agree, Miss Ellacott?” he faced her, twisted slightly on the sofa towards her.  
Venetia noticed her brother’s smirk– clearly he knew that she had not heard a word of what the Colonel had said.  
She swallowed visibly but read the Colonel’s face, “…..Yes?.....” she answered softly, relaxing as the Colonel nodded slightly and tilted towards Martin.  
“You see, there is a serious consideration that all members of parliament must think about, and that is the concept of the health and wellbeing of workers, which starts with their masters and employers paying an adequate wage and ensuring appropriate conditions….when they don’t I’m afraid that poverty drives people to shameful and deplorable acts, as Miss Ellacott, you are all too aware,” and he sat back, his listening manner as Stephen responded by explaining their latest evolution for workers at the mill a complete contradiction to his speaking manner.  
One elbow rested on the arm of the sofa, the fingers of the hand toying with his uneven upper lip and bristles of his beard. The other hand rested on the sofa cushion, tantalisingly close to the fabric of Venetia’s gown beside him.

Mr and Mrs Armitage and their son Philip, and Mr and Mrs Parker with their son Charles and daughter Camilla arrived together and introductions were made.  
The two young gentlemen were eager to meet the Colonel and assume positions as officers, and seemed to have the required physical attributes for the role based on first sight.  
Camilla was a rather giggly young lady who blushed furiously when taking Martin Ellacott’s hand and almost exploded when introduced to the Colonel – her reaction not unnoticed by Venetia who rolled her eyes slightly.  
The arrival of Mrs Ellacott signified a completion to the group and after brief greetings she suggested they move through to dine.

The Colonel accompanied Jennifer Ellacott leaving Charles Parker almost apoplectic with youthful desire to accompany Venetia. 

Seating had been arranged by Mrs Ellacott, and she had thoughtfully positioned the 2 younger men close to the Colonel, she had also placed Martin near to Miss Parker and Venetia was on the right of Colonel Strike.  
As it was a larger, more formal dinner the conversation followed more traditional protocols than the earlier luncheon.  
The Colonel engaged his neighbouring diners in general conversation about their hopes and aspirations for their forthcoming careers and finally turned to his right to talk to Venetia.

He noticed again that she had not replaced her engagement ring following the events earlier in the day, and once more he considered that perhaps her father had not given his permission; although he had not told the Colonel as much in their discussions earlier in the day – but why would he?  
He had no idea that his daughter was the object of his desire!

“I hope you feel fully recovered from events earlier in the day and that they will not prevent you from resuming your usual patterns of engagement,” he said, his voice deep and husky, sending ripples of pleasure through her belly.  
She tilted her gaze towards him through lowered lashes as she responded, “It was naturally rather shocking and upsetting, but your presence was of great comfort.”  
The Colonel swallowed a mouthful of the tasty terrine he was eating hastily and somewhat automatically as he watched her mouth form the words…..God he wanted to devour those lips.

“I am glad I could be of service to you Miss Ellacott, I would wish you to know that…..I….. I will always be at your service, regardless of anyone else’s prior claim to you,” and he removed his eyes from hers, focussing on the floral arrangement in front of him so as to control his breathing.  
He heard and felt a slight hitch to Miss Ellacott’s breathing beside him, but she remained silent on the issue.  
Instead she changed the tone of the conversation and asked him for more information about his house, and the specific work he wished to improve his library.

They talked about volumes he wished to add and their preferred methods of arranging books – Venetia insisted they should be grouped according to genre and content whereas the Colonel stated a preference for arranging them by author.  
They both thought, not for the first time, how easy it was to engage the other in discussion, and how their differing opinions were so easily accepted by the other….it was most unlike any other relationship the Colonel had ever had with a female, and for Venetia it felt more like the kind of easy conversation she participated in with her father.

The meal completed, and the ladies rose to vacate the dining hall so that the men could participate in smoking and port.  
It was established that the Colonel would return to Tabley in the morning, after breakfast, and that within a couple of days he would be in Catterick where he would organise an introduction of Charles and Phillip with whoever was best placed at the barracks to support them.

After an appropriate time the gentlemen joined the ladies and the usual array of after dinner amusements took place – including a game of whist for the older couples; Miss Parker playing the small piano with Martin acting as diligent music advisor and page turner, leaving Miss Ellacott and the 3 young gentlemen to discuss various aspects of life in London – neither young man having been but both expressing a desire to – and horses – all 4 having an interest in and appreciation of a fine animal.

Venetia was highly animated throughout the conversation, and her relaxation was infectious, making the Colonel more easy and amusing than he usually was around strangers.  
He smiled more than he had done in a long time, and actually laughed outloud at Charles Parker’s description of him being almost thrown from his mount during a recent gallop and passing his mother who simply asked, ‘Are you quite well Charles?’ as he clattered past her, clearly anything but!  
His hearty, deep laugh combined with the dim light from candles and proximity to her made Venetia’s eyes grow a little misty and her heart ache slightly in her chest.  
But he wasn’t the marrying kind!  
Why wasn’t he?  
Why didn’t he wish to marry her?  
Why did he only seem interested in women with titles, like Lady Charlotte Campbell and Lady Sarah Shadlock? 

 

As the visiting guests departed and the family members began to drift to their respective rooms Venetia found herself climbing the staircase, with the Colonel stood at the base, allowing a proper level of distance between them.  
It also allowed him to gaze upon the shapely curves and slight wriggle of her hips as she made her way up the treads.

At the top landing she paused momentarily and glanced down at him, her fingertips lightly trailing along the bannister rail.  
“Sleep well Colonel,” she said, softly.  
The Colonel had to shift his gait slightly to cope with the increased pressure within his trousers.  
“Goodnight Miss Ellacott,” he replied, his eyes darkly seductive peering up at her.

In the privacy of her own bedroom she allowed herself to cast her thoughts back to the scene she had witnessed through the window as he washed.  
She squeezed her legs together to try to relieve some of the sensation she was experiencing and pressed her fingers against the soft curls beneath her under garments, sobbing as she felt the warmth and moisture she had produced.  
She found that the more she visualised the Colonel’s naked torso, and the way he had dropped his head back on his shoulders the more she wanted to press against herself, and she did, emitting a small, muffled sob into her pillow as a delirious feeling swept over and through her.

 

The Colonel undressed and lay back on the small bed in his guestroom.  
He couldn’t relieve the hardness in his braies this evening….not in a strange bed, but he did allow himself to picture Miss Ellacott’s eyes and lips as she had appeared to him at various points through the evening.  
Why the hell was she marrying de Cunliffe?  
The man used prostitutes, he had tried on more than one occasion to take advantage of her….what did she see in him?  
Other than respectability, and a handsome face?  
It just didn’t sit well with him that she appeared so shallow – her conversation and wit, the way she had fought off that attacker, it all lead him to believe that she had more depth to her….so was it just the issue of his parentage that kept her from considering him?

Maybe he should broach the subject with her father?

He eventually slept.


	28. An uninvited guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First of hopefully 2 chapters I shall post today.  
> The Colonel plays host, an unexpected and uninvited guest joins the party.

The following morning the Colonel was seated in the breakfast room alongside Stephen and Martin, Mr Ellacott having already left for some matter at the mill.  
He was planning to accompany Stephen to observe the mill in action before continuing home in order to prepare himself for starting his role in Catterick.  
The Colonel was a man who was interested in the world and always sought to take opportunities to learn about new ways and inventions. 

“I shall be hosting a gathering of my own at Tabley before the end of the month,” he went on to explain, “I would like to think I could extend an invitation to you?” he addressed Martin’s youthful face.  
“Near Masham isn’t it? Tabley? Yes, very nice part of the country as I recall. I shall await your invitation Colonel…..providing you assure me some pretty young ladies will be part of the gathering!” he grinned across at his sister.  
“I shall naturally extend the invitation to include your sister, so you may rest assured that at least one of the gathering shall meet your description,” the Colonel blushed, “But rest assured, the party shall include several very pretty young ladies,” he added, swiftly, focussing on the pattern on the china, embarrassed to have made such a statement aloud.

Stephen and Martin’s eyes met across the table, an exchanged nod and purse of lips communicating their mutual acceptance of the man’s feelings towards their sister.  
They definitely liked him…..why the hell didn’t Venetia?

She joined them presently, the Colonel pausing to dab his lips with his napkin before rising to offer his customary, polite incline of the head towards her, sitting only after she had arranged herself and resuming his feast.  
“The Colonel has invited us to Tabley,” Martin stated with a smirk.  
Venetia’s eyes rose and met the green eyed gaze of the Colonel across the table.  
“I shall naturally extend the invitation to include Mr de Cunliffe,” the Colonel added softly, through tense lips.

 

The house seemed instantly quiet and dull once the Colonel left, having expressed his gratitude to Mrs Ellacott for her hospitality.  
He had taken Venetia’s hand to say adieu,  
“I am so glad that you appear well after the events of yesterday, Miss Ellacott,” and raised her hand to his bristled chin in order to press his warm lips against her elegant fingers before he departed.  
Venetia was left with the image of his hooded, green eyed gaze as well as the image of his chiselled, darkly furred chest…..and she wasn’t sure which she was enjoying reminiscing about the most.  
Rowntree sniffed around and mournfully pawed at her skirt, “What?” she pouted down at the doleful brown eyes gazing up at her, “I know……you miss him too!”

 

Colonel Strike enjoyed his visit to the Ellacott mill greatly.  
The machinery was interesting and the conditions and pay the Ellacott’s insisted upon were not only fair, but instilled a profoundly loyal and hard working workforce.  
He bid his goodbyes to Stephen and Michael Ellacott and rode back to Tabley House.

Shanker watched his master approach and tried to determine his mood.  
He looked quite pleased, slightly smug…..maybe the waistcoat had worked it’s magic!

“How many guests can we accommodate here?” the Colonel asked as he dragged off his clothes, and flopped back across his bed.  
“Well, Sir, we have rooms enough for 10 guests, four rooms will sleep 2 and 2 smaller rooms suitable for a single guest. Why?” Shanker asked quizzically as he picked up the clothes his master had strewn about – he was always messier when he was happy!  
“I’m going to play host!” he grinned, an almost boyish expression on his face.

 

The Colonel set about devising a guest list - he would invite several of the local families he was now acquainted with for a fine dinner, and a select group to overnight; Martin Ellacott and Venetia and his sense of duty meant that he was forced to extend the invitation to Matthew de Cunliffe. He also added Ilsa and Nicholas Herbert, since it was due to Mr Herbert's recommendation that he had given the property due consideration and he needed at least one married female to act as ‘mistress’ for the event.  
He added Phillip Armitage to the list – working on the assumption that this would slightly even up the males at the table as he would ask the Broadhursts and their trio of daughters to dine.  
This would be a total of 6 overnight guests, in addition to himself obviously.  
He had counted up the dining guests and would offer an opportunity for his kitchen staff to cater for 14 in total – as well as the Broadhursts he would ask Charles and Camilla Parker, whose family had taken a property closer to Catterick in support of their son’s promising military career.

His cook, Mrs Bennett, was thrilled with the possibilities and she suggested a varied and interesting menu which the Colonel approved of.  
Hatherill made sure the wine choices were appropriate and the house was filled with bustle and general activity as everything was made ready according to the Colonel's instructions.  
He was rather specific in his wishes for one of the larger guest rooms towards the rear of the house.  
It had 2 large windows, each with a ledge wide enough to sit upon, and he instructed that a small bookcase be moved into the room, and that the drapes and bedding be changed to a brighter design, in shades of yellow, teal and cream fabric which had an intricate design which pleased him.

He had started his role in the Catterick barracks successfully - he had already made several suggestions about improvements to training regimes and specific activities which would improve team building and fitness.  
His skills and knowledge meant that he instantly achieved an enviable level of respect from other officers and recruits, and established himself as a valued part of the barracks and regime within a matter of a week or so.

His duties and the activities at home enabled him to not dwell on thoughts of Miss Ellacott's enigmatic charms, or the fact that she would shortly be sleeping under his roof....on the bed with the yellow, teal and cream drapes and covers.....the fact that Matthew de Cunliffe had also accepted the invitation was beside the point.

The invitations had been received warmly by everyone; the Colonel had established himself as a popular acquaintance; those who knew him personally easily seeing past the issues linked to his father's lack of parental propriety. 

_______________

The day finally arrived when guests would descend upon Colonel Strike and Tabley House.  
His staff had done him proud; the place gleamed both inside and out. The stables and outbuildings were as neat and tidy as the interiors.  
Flowers and fruit decorated tables; decanters of fine wines and spirits were available, linens and carpets were immaculate, pillows were plumped and fires laid ready for if needed in all rooms. The best wax candles were on display throughout and the larders were stocked.

The Colonel dressed carefully in what had become one of his favourite outfits, namely his deep burgundy coloured tail coat, buff breeches and mustard coloured waistcoat. He tied a cream cravat into a flourishing bow and fastened it with a subtle gold pin which had caught his eye in the window of a trinkets shop near to the barracks.  
He felt oddly nervous, as he adjusted a floral arrangement on the polished table in his study and scrutinised his post.

The Herbert’s carriage drew up first, mid afternoon.  
The Colonel greeted them warmly and Nicholas expressed delight at what the Colonel had done at Tabley as he ushered them inside.  
Hatherill had Barclay and Thomas set to work on their luggage and Shanker assisted one of the young, female maids, called Alice, as they arranged the Herbert’s belongings.  
Shanker liked Alice.  
She was rather young, but pretty and she had a saucy mouth on her that could deliver a scathing comment to any of the male servants who tried it on with her.

 

The Herberts were being engaged in a short tour of the downstairs rooms when a second carriage drew up.

Venetia liked the building immensely, it was the exact image of the property she imagined Colonel Strike living in.  
It was large enough to appear spacious, but not so sprawling as to become tedious or ostentatious…..unlike the de Cunliffe property at Newark she thought.  
She was conscious of the fact that he had still not met her parents, and the only communication she had received from him in the past 2 weeks was in the form of a letter, quite curt and unromantic, and informing her that he would see her at the Colonel’s house as he was still ‘busy with business.’  
Her father had tutted openly at the man’s behaviour, mumbling on more than one occasions that, ‘man’s got a bloody nerve, proposing without asking my permission and then abandoning you for weeks at a time.’

The Colonel saw the carriage from one of the windows in the parlour and let out a small release of breath upon realising who it contained.  
He knew that Hatherill would escort them inside, but he suddenly felt the need to welcome them in person, so he excused himself and walked politely from the room, breaking into a limping run to reach the main doorway as Martin Ellacott was assisting his sister down from the carriage.

“Mr Ellacott, Miss Ellacott…..good day to you and welcome to Tabley,” he announced. Framed as he was in the open doorway he looked every bit as handsome and large as Venetia remembered.  
Martin walked across and extended his hand to the Colonel as he approached the carriage.  
“Colonel, what a fine prospect you have here!” Martin commented; the fact that the only prospect the Colonel’s gaze was focussing on was his fine sister was lost on him.

“May I welcome you, Miss Ellacott?” the Colonel asked briskly and held out his ungloved hand for hers to escort her across the threshold.  
The sensation of sliding her small hand against his firm, swarthy one always sent shivers racing through her, and today was no exception.

Once in the foyer he left them so that they could remove coats and bonnets.  
He returned to the Herberts and moments later Hatherill escorted the Ellacott party into the same room and warm greetings were shared.  
Pleasant conversation ensued, catching up on acquaintances and gossip, Ilsa and Venetia instantly conversing as if they had not been parted for weeks.  
Venetia was wearing her sapphire ring once more, but Ilsa was somewhat alarmed to discover that Mr de Cunliffe had still not been near her father, nor indeed visited her despite his proximity and their agreement.

The Colonel tried to remain focussed on the discussion between Martin Ellacott and Nicholas Herbert, but he found it impossible not to drift his eyes towards Venetia. She looked ridiculously alluring seated on the chaise alongside Mrs Herbert…..she was sitting in the very spot he frequented himself when he used this room, he had a flash of desire upon considering that her pert buttocks were resting on the same fabric where his own had nestled.  
He lost track of the men’s conversation and had to shake his dreams from his head in order to focus and be able to rejoin the discussion.

Phillip Armitage arrived on horseback, dressed smartly in his regimental colours and was in the process of greeting the Colonel when a clattering of hooves signalled the arrival of another carriage.  
Drawing up, the head of Matthew de Cunliffe appeared, although from the sounds within the vehicle it was evident he was not unaccompanied.

“Colonel Strike!” came the loud greeting, almost drunk sounding to the military man’s ear.  
“Mr de Cunliffe, you are welcome. I trust you had a fine journey," he raised his eyebrow and rolled his eyes as the man descended the carriage showing the other occupant to be none other than Lady Sarah Shadlock.

“I took the liberty of asking an acquaintance of ours to accompany me….she was quite eager to see your home, Sir,” de Cunliffe continued as the woman held out her hand coquettishly towards the Colonel.  
His manners forbade him to act as he would have preferred, and therefore he extended his hand to assist her from the carriage, flexing his body as she pretended to loose her footing and tumble into him, giggling.  
“Why Colonel……thank heavens you are so upright and…..firm,” she twittered, “I trust you can find a bed for me,” she continued over her shoulder, sashaying into the house, past the dumbfounded face of Hatherill.

“Please arrange for the spare guestroom to be made available for Lady Sarah,” the Colonel stated, inhaling deeply and evenly in an attempt to curb his frustration, and following Matthew inside.

 

The entire scene had been witnessed by the rest of the party through the large, parlour windows.  
Venetia’s cheeks were flushed and tinged with red, Nicholas Herbert was clenching his fist in a bid to quell the desire to punch de Cunliffe’s face to a pulp….although not a man of violence, he found the man’s almost deviant lack of courtesy and respect towards Miss Ellacott drive him to such thoughts.

“Tell me this isn’t he?” Martin Ellacott addressed his sister, although from her pained expression and inability to meet his gaze he did not require a reply.  
He bristled visibly and tensed each nerve of his body.

“My dearest Venetia!” the almost flippant, but beguiling voice of Matthew de Cunliffe announced upon entering the parlour.  
He went immediately towards her and engulfed her small hand in both of his own. “I despised the time away from you but can see now it has only served to render you more beautiful to my eyes,” and he kissed her hand.  
His eyes were tender and his lips curled in such a deliciously warm smile that much to her own hatred she found herself warming once again to him.  
Why did he have such power over her?

Martin Ellacott approached the scene, noting the tense and pained expression of the Colonel as he maneuvered himself away from Lady Sarah’s persistent approach. 

“I see I have been away too long….do I have competition for your attentions, Madam?” Matthew purred as Martin paused at his shoulder.  
“On the contrary, Sir, I am Martin Ellacott,” he stated firmly.  
“Ahhhh, the other brother….well then, I am pleased to make your acquaintance….brother,” he gave an almost mocking bow to then younger, fresh faced man who Venetia could see was attempting to curtail his contempt.

The Colonel cleared his throat, “I would imagine you are each eager to freshen yourselves following such arduous journeys,” he flashed the final statement towards de Cunliffe. “Come, you shall be shown your rooms where you may prepare for dinner,” he urged, wishing for his own moment of solitude as much as for the comfort of his guests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to want to punch Venetia again for seeming to fall back under Matthew's spell!  
> His true colours will soon be known though!


	29. A man who has everything, has everything to lose.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the dinner party - Matthew is still vile and makes some wonderfully dreadful comments...booohiss!  
> Venetia discovers a rather beautiful sketchbook in her room......the Colonel is just heaven!  
> However, get ready to want to slap Venetia again as Matthew worms his way back in......briefly as you will see.  
> Oh....and there is a mention of swans!

Hatherill, Shanker, Barclay, Thomas, Alice and another female servant named Rose escorted the group up the staircases and to their respective chambers.  
Venetia was glad to have the door to her chamber closed behind her so that she could slump onto the bed and catch her breath.  
“Are you feeling quite well, Madam? You look a might flustered,” Alice stated as she glanced around the room and ensured that Rose had arranged the lady’s belongings to her liking. “Shall I pour you a glass of wine?”  
Venetia nodded blankly at the maid and sipped at the goblet of watered down red wine offered her.

She now allowed her eyes to wander around the chamber, and she smiled, a small hitch to her breathing as she trailed her fingertips across the bed covering, noting the swirling pattern on the fabric depicting cream coloured swans intermingled with trailing teal blue fronds and golden filigree.

The bookcase was filled with all manner of books, she moved closer and smiled, realising they were not arranged alphabetically according to the author’s name, but instead grouped by content – several novels giving way to volumes of poetry, on another shelf volumes of flora and fauna from around the world and several more exquisitely illustrated volumes about art and sculpture, plus a slender sketchbook which she removed and took across to one of the wide window seats.  
She arranged herself with her feet curled onto the cushion and her back resting against the wall and flipped open the thick pages of the book, gasping as she instantly recognised the languid, easy strokes of the sketches.

The first few depicted the landscape from this very window…..he had sat here and drawn the view.  
Turning the page she hummed as she stroked her fingers across a detailed image of Rowntree, so realistic as to make her feel as if she truly stroked his soft fur.  
The next images were of flowers, exquisitely detailed and coloured with watercolours, the final image in the book- although there were several empty pages - depicted a branch, small new leaves budding along it’s branches with a perfectly executed pastel sketch of a pair of robins perching upon it.  
A whimpering sob caught in Venetia’s throat; the rosy breast of the male bird was almost heart shaped, the smaller, all brown bird’s beak and shining, blue-grey eye turned away from the green eyed one visible on the male.

“Shall I fetch hot water, madam? Or shall you lay down a while…true you look very flushed, Miss,” Alice continued, standing a few paces away from where Venetia sat.  
“I will lie and rest awhile. Please fetch me some heated water and attend to me later…..I would like plenty of time to dress," she added, her voice shaking slightly.  
“Very good madam. I’ll loosen your stays shall I?” and stepped back to pull back the bed coverings as Venetia unfolded herself from the window seat, bringing the sleek sketchbook with her towards her bed.  
She placed it on the small table beside it, alongside the remnants of the wine, and stood meekly, removing pins from her hair, whilst Alice efficiently dealt with the fastenings of her gown and loosened the lacings on her corset below and unbuttoned her boots.

Venetia slid her more comfortably attired body into the soft linens of the bed….there was a familiar scent emanating from the pillow; it was feint, but definitely evident. A slightly spicy, warm aroma of sandalwood….as if a hand had brushed across the smooth fabric before the cover had been dragged across.  
It made her already light headed state seem even more delirious.  
Breathing deeply, burying her face into the pillows she reached out and stroked the pages of the sketchbook once more before drifting into a fitful sleep, filled with images of the Colonels’ intensely seductive stare, Matthew’s almost smirking smiles, a crackling fire and rain beating down for some reason.

She was shocked out of her slumbers by a crack of thunder in her dream, and sitting up sharply she realised she was panting, but she must have slept for it was now growing dark and the drapes had been drawn across the windows, presumably by Alice as she slept.

She dragged her hand through her wild hair, it snagged on the gemstone in her engagement ring and she tutted audibly.

Why, why, why had she agreed to marry him?  
Of course she knew why….marriage meant a degree of freedom, and the Colonel wanted no wife!  
__________

Whilst Venetia had slept the Colonel had tried to do the same.  
He tossed and turned in his bed, the image of Matthew and the giggling Sarah Shadlock, of the man being downright rude to Venetia’s brother and the image of Venetia's complete rapturous beauty in the space that was his, on his sofas, in his rooms, her fingers trailing along the bannisters on his staircase…..they kept sleep from his fevered mind.

Upon waking he began his toilette and summoned Shanker to help him dress for the evening.  
His black trousers, striped with grey, deep grey coat with wide, cut out lapels and teal blue, swirling silk waistcoat.  
He tied a bow in his cravat and once more added the small, gold pin to hold it in place.  
“Are any other guests stirring?” he asked as Shanker tugged and brushed down his master’s coat, enjoying the tautness and line of the garment across the wide shoulders of the Colonel.  
“Not yet, Sir, but water has been taken up to several….the ladies, Sir,” he added.  
“Then I shall await in my study….you’ll send word as soon as anyone comes down or arrives,” and he left his rooms, pausing as he passed the doors to the chambers of Miss Ellacott, and her brother, clenching his fist and cursing under his breath slightly as the high pitched squeal of Lady Sarah Shadlock met his ears, “Lord, I pray that she isn’t the first downstairs!”

As it happened he spent a peaceful time in his study, organising accounts and correspondence before Barclay appeared to inform him that Mr Armitage was coming down and a carriage was drawing up outside.  
The Colonel stood and checked himself in the mirror before he joined Armitage, who was still smartly and proudly clad in his officers’ uniform.

The carriage deposited Charles and Camilla Parker and they were joined in the parlour shortly afterwards by Martin Ellacott.  
Introductions were made and by the by the Broadhursts arrived, all 3 daughters looking pretty in their gowns, with natural, rosy tints to their cheeks, and more than a twinkle in their eyes towards the sight of Mr Armitage and Mr Parker so smart in their regimentals and Mr Ellacott to handsome in his deep green coat.  
Martin had the same colouring and storm coloured eyes as his sister, and his face had a naturally open expression, except upon the appearance of Matthew de Cunliffe who joined the group, dressed in a rather sombre black coat and trousers, the only colour from a deep red cravat at his throat.

Drinks were being distributed as the Herberts and Venetia made their appearance in the room. The candlelight made for a flattering glow which highlighted her pale, skin and the scattering of freckles across her shoulders.  
The pale peach of her gown was trimmed with highly faceted jet beads, twinkling and catching the light as she moved.  
It skimmed her shoulders falling to a plunging v shape at the front, the intricacies of the beadwork dragging any eye that hadn’t instantly fallen there.

Further introductions were made and Matthew de Cunliffe pulled Venetia’s hand into the crease of his elbow, covering it with his own hand, almost like a sealed tie around her preventing her from communicating with anyone he didn’t wish her to by way of limiting her movement.

After rather a prolonged period, Lady Sarah Shadlock was announced, she floated into the room wearing a deep crimson gown of shining sateen.  
She wore an extravagant feathery headpiece and her neck was draped with glittering diamonds and rubies.  
There was an audible gasp from the Broadhurst girls, but the Colonel introduced her without preamble of ceremony.  
She fluttered around him though and took his arm in a predatory manner as Hatherill announced that dinner was served.

The butler had hastily had to rearrange the table settings, a Lady with a title must be seated at the top place next to the Colonel, which meant that Mrs Herbert needed to move lower, which also meant that Miss Ellacott did too; even though his master had been quite specific about her position at the table.  
The Colonel grimaced slightly as he regarded the seating positions, but cast a reassuring glance at Hatherill; the man had acted properly, it wasn’t his fault that the damned Shadlock woman had turned up unannounced and uninvited.

Venetia was momentarily side tracked from the presence of Matthew beside her by the beauty of the dining room.  
The table looked stunning, with arrangements of cornflowers, mimosa, white roses and fragrant sweet peas intermingled with forget-me-nots. The silverware gleamed in the twinkling candlielight, and a flickering fire burned in the hearth adding to the comfortable feeling despite the size and formality of the setting.

From her position partway down the table she had a rather delicious view of the Colonel, and as Matthew de Cunliffe had been seated on the same side of the table as her, but with one of the Broadhurst daughters and Phillip Armitage between them she was able to enjoy her meal and the view of the handsome Colonel without Matthew’s attentions.  
He on the other hand was forced into conversation with Mr Broadhurst and Charles Parker who were both highly well informed about politics….seemingly more so than he!

The food was delicious, well prepared, varied and plentiful as was the wine and conversation.  
The Colonel noted with barely concealed smugness that Venetia maintained conversation lightly and skilfully with those around her at the table….she was everything he could ask for in life….and yet she wasn’t his…whereas Lady Sarah Shadlock seemed to be doing everything in her power to wheedle her way into the Colonel’s attentions!  
Mrs Herbert acted as matron to the table and signified the moment for the ladies to retire, Hatherill lead them towards the music room which had been lit beautifully and set out with small plates of petit fours, bowls of sugar coated almonds and a pot of steaming hot chocolate with dainty cups.

Venetia found it a delight to be able to wander around the room, she focused on small details; the curios displayed in cabinets; the selection of music at the piano; the way the seating had been arranged and the pair of painted miniatures on display on one wall.  
One showed a very beautiful face, dark curling hair, high cheekbones and a soft, rose coloured mouth. She was clearly an older lady, Venetia presumed it was the Colonel’s mother. She had a wistful, almost poetic expression, she looked kind.  
The other face was more familiar and showed the Colonel’s handsome, intense expression and green eyes.  
The artist had managed to capture the slightly smug self confidence that the Colonel exuded but the expression in the eyes flashed the same poetic quality from the female.

“Chocolate, Miss Ellacott?” one of the Broadhurst daughters (Arabella, the one the Colonel had felt rather too talkative) approached Venetia, holding one of the china cups.  
The delicious aroma found her nostrils and she found herself agreeing and dragged away from the images to sit beside the young lady on a dark wood seat.  
They made suitable noises of delight as the rich, sweet liquid trickled across their tongues.  
The sensation reminded Venetia of when her fingertips had briefly found the soft curls of the Colonel at the nape of his neck, prior to her fainting in his strong arms. She allowed herself to wallow in the memory, which was not unpleasant despite the connotations to her attack, as she drained the cup.

Lady Sarah Shadlock was rather slumped in her seat, she appeared to have drunk more of the wine during the meal than the other females and was humming slightly, almost asleep.  
Mrs Herbert encouraged the youngest of the Broadhurst girls, Margaret, to display her talents at the piano, and her sister Helena selected a piece of music for her and acted as page turner.  
She was an adept musician and played the piece lightly and with significant skill. She was quite a plain and quiet girl, but seemed to come alive at the piano.

 

After a suitable time the ladies heard the rumbling voices of the gentlemen and they joined them; Hatherill and Barclay removed the chocolate and replaced the pot and cups with decanters of port, brandy and whisky.  
The appearance of the menfolk seemed to perk up Lady Sarah, and she managed to drag herself upright in order to advance towards the Colonel as he tried to position himself closer to Venetia and her brother Martin, although it meant him having to engage with Matthew de Cunliffe further – the man had got louder as the gents smoked and drank together; he liked his own voice, but seldom made any comments of note the Colonel and Martin Ellacott had surmised.

The Colonels’ eyes sought out Venetia’s, “I trust you are finding your visit comfortable, Miss Ellacott?” he asked, an almost imploring flash behind his gaze.  
She lifted her chin slightly to smile back at him, “Everything is most comfortable, Sir…..the selection of books is particularly thoughtful, and perfectly arranged,” and she felt her breathing hitch slightly as the Colonel’s lips formed a tiny, just for her, twitch and a brief, pink blush appeared on his cheeks.  
“I’m glad you approve,” he added, before rolling his eyes slightly as Lady Sarah spoke.  
“I never seem to find the time to read……far too many other pastimes to engage in!” she slurred slightly.  
Matthew de Cunliffe nodded and continued, “Very true…..especially for a female. Smaller brains…..very dangerous to fill them up with books and such like…..far better to leave all of that to men. Don’t you agree, Colonel?”

The Colonel was staring open mouthed at the comment, as was Martin Ellacott, who could see a familiar determination and twitch to his sister’s chin.  
“Err….no, Sir….I completely disagree. I believe that most individuals are improved by reading; and their brains far from filled are stretched and exercised by the experience,” the Colonel stated.

Matthew de Cunliffe made a dismissive grunt and refilled his glass of brandy.

Martin Ellacott enquired about the plans for the following day – the guests were planning on leaving around midday, but the Colonel had suggested a carriage ride before they departed, around the local area to take in a couple of rather breathtaking views, and so they discussed this as Venetia drifted across to join Matthew who had taken his drink across to where Sarah Shadlock had seated herself.

“Venetia, my dear girl, come and join us here,” he cooed, patting the seat beside him and flashing her a rather tipsy smile.  
Venetia dutifully sat between them and felt a slight stiffening to Lady Sarah’s body, almost as if she wished her away!  
Venetia engaged Sarah in polite conversation about what she had been doing since they last saw each other – Lady Sarah having visited family in Scotland.  
As they talked, Venetia felt Matthew’s hand seek out her own and she enjoyed the warm sensation of his smooth, firm fingers caressing her own soft fingers.  
It was a pleasant sensation.

It was quite late when the Broadhursts announced their intention to leave, and the Colonel requested their carriage to be sent for. Charles and Camilla Parker left at the same time.  
The atmosphere in the music room was of quiet relaxation once the seven guests had disappeared.  
It was Mr Armitage who expressed his intention to turn in first – he was leaving earlier the following day in order to return to the barracks, and Lady Sarah took the opportunity of requesting his arm and retired too, a small exhalation from the Colonel displaying his gratitude to the younger officer.

After a short time, during which Ilsa and Venetia had discussed several topics; one of which being Lady Sarah Shadlock’s behaviour and inability to monitor her own alcohol consumption; the Herberts expressed their desire to retire, and Martin caught a stifled yawn from Venetia and suggested they follow.

The Colonel bid each of them a good night and thanked Ilsa for her assistance with the ladies.  
He watched from the bottom of the staircase as the 2 pairs made their way up towards their rooms, his hand rested lightly on the bannister rail, the other on his hip. His expression was one of satisfied acceptance; the evening had gone well despite the last minute and uninvited addition, and he had enjoyed seeing Venetia against a backdrop of ‘his’ space. 

At the top of the staircase, Venetia looked back over her shoulder and found the waiting eyes of the Colonel.  
The exquisite curve of her neck, the few escaped tendrils of honey-gold hair grazing her shoulders, made him almost whimper in his chest, but he maintained his darkly seductive gaze on hers, hoping that the stiffness in his trousers would not betray him.  
The moment finally broke as she moved out of sight and moments later he heard muffled ‘Goodnights’ and the soft sound of a kiss – presumably to her brother’s cheek he thought – and finally the click of doors closing.

He realised he had been holding his breath and exhaled sharply, adjusting his gait slightly and feeling his erection subside as he realised he was left with Matthew de Cunliffe to entertain.  
“Can I get you anything else, Mr de Cunliffe?” he remarked as he returned to the music room to where his guest was now sprawled out across a sofa.  
“Perfect bloody host!” the man abruptly stated, rolling his head towards the Colonel who was limping slightly as the toil of the day began to show in his right leg. “Nope…..nothing else I want….I’ve got everything!” he added, getting to his feet and smirking at the taller man.

The Colonel understood the double meaning in the man’s comment and stiffened his lips and jaw, maintaining his stance.  
“The man who has everything has everything to lose,” Cormoran growled. “But if you need nothing further I shall leave you to your own company, Sir….feel free to request anything from Hatherill,” and he turned away, clenching his fists and trying to cover his limp as he made his exit and reached his own rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, next chapter it all kicks off, there will be an angry badger called Shanker! and fists will meet Matthew's face....and I will unashamedly tell you, the next chapter is the reason I wrote this....the scene has been in my head from the very start....so consider the previous 55,000 words as a preamble!!!!


	30. Filthy scum!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did someone request an angry badger and Matthew's face being punched repeatedly?  
> Enjoy!

He reflected on the evening as a whole; despite the vile de Cunliffe and the ludicrously loose behaviour of Lady Sarah Shadlock he was pleased.  
He retired to his bed.

Several hours later he was awoken by the breathless attentions of Rose, who was shaking him roughly and with little ceremony in a bid to rouse him.  
“What? What is it?” he asked as he became conscious, and noted the dark night sky still visible.  
“You need to come, Sir……come quickly, he’ll kill ‘im!” she turned and waited at the doorway as the Colonel clambered out of bed and grabbed his deep red dressing gown to cover his braies and nightshirt.

She wordlessly led him down the stairs and down again into the servants quarters where he could hear the raised voices and unmistakable sounds of knuckles meeting flesh.  
Shanker’s easily identifiable voice could be heard, “You call yourself a gentleman?! You fucking c……” the final word cut off by the sound of a grunt and the smack of a fist hitting a nose by the sound of it.  
The Colonel was now close enough to see that Shanker was literally pounding Matthew de Cunliffe’s face into a bloody pulp, straddling him and grasping him by the shirt as he shouted in his face.

The Colonel could see Alice, crouching and sobbing, curled in a ball further along the corridor, her clothes appeared torn by the way she was clutching at them, and she was incoherently babbling.  
Rose swooped down to comfort her and Strike marched across to drag Shanker from the prostrate de Cunliffe. 

“That’s enough!” he barked, in a firm, resonant and authoritative voice, but Shanker was not heeding the direction – he continued to snarl and swing out at the man on the floor like an angry badger as Cormoran physically lifted him and turned him away from Matthew.  
Whatever the reason for Shanker’s actions it was clear that he had made his point and beaten the man….quite literally.

“Shanker! Stop! NOW!” he stated, fiercely, turning to assist de Cunliffe who shrugged off his hand and pulled himself to his feet using the wall, spitting a glob of blood onto the stone floor.  
“What the hell is going on in my house?” the Colonel asked, turning between both men and glancing nervously at the two females still huddled in the gloom.

Shanker growled and almost bounced on his feet, “I came down to get a dustpan……one of the guests,” he flashed his gaze directly at Matthew, “had a little accident with a glass in the hallway and I wanted to clean it up, but when I got down here I heard ‘im before I saw ‘im…..filthy scum….” And he made to launch himself at the cowering man again.

Cormoran stilled him with a firm grasp of his shoulders and maintained a grip on him until he felt the tension in his muscles dissipate slightly.  
“What do you mean?” he asked with a look of disgust on his uneven lips.

Shanker tried to control his breathing as he spoke, “He was all over ‘er……Alice…..she was shouting, trying to fend ‘im off ‘er, but the bastard had his trousers down and was up ‘er skirts……..complete and utter c….”  
Again the final word was drowned out by the sound of Matthew making a loud exclamation of his own,  
“And you believe that do you?” Matthew addressed the Colonel whose eyes were wandering across his attire, and noticed that the buttons of his trousers were indeed unfastened, the flap of fabric clearly open. “The little whore was all over me….desperate for a gentleman to give her a decent ride!” he shouted, staggering back as the Colonel first pushed Shanker firmly back and then rounded on de Cunliffe and administered a swift, powerful punch of his own to the man’s gawping face which threw Matthew’s head back and almost made him pirouette around, he was saved however by planting his face firmly against the stonework.

“I would ask you to get OUT of my house…..Sir,” the Colonel muttered darkly, “Rose? Rose…..go to the stables and wake Stott, tell him to make Mr de Cunliffe’s carriage ready with haste, he is leaving.”  
He then turned his attention to Shanker who was still tensed like a coiled spring ready to erupt again. “Shanker? I need you to take Alice back to her room, and then come and find me and Mr de Cunliffe as soon as his carriage is ready. Can you do that?” although it was more of an order than a request.

“I’ll make sure everyone knows about the welcome I got here!” Matthew spat as he swayed slightly.  
“You’ll shut up and you’ll get out, Sir. We’ll wait in my study…..if you do not wish to go voluntarily I can assure you I am more than capable of making you…..so get up those stairs….and don’t bleed on my rugs!” the Colonel growled, pushing the pathetic man ahead of him, ensuring that Shanker remained out of striking distance from him.

Once he had bustled his guest into his study he took stock of what had happened….the man had clearly attacked Alice and tried to force himself on her – he hoped to God that Shanker had got there in time to save her virtue.  
He poured himself a glass of whisky and sank it down, pacing angrily as Matthew slumped onto the polished wooden armchair beside the fire, the embers of which were still glowing.

“What the hell were you thinking?” the Colonel finally asked, his voice calmer than he felt, his breath still panting and irregular.  
Matthew’s body language was one of a defeated but defiant man, “I wished for some amusement…….and I went in search of it….and I found it!” he stated, almost glibly.  
The Colonel clenched his fists and grasped the edge of the desk in order to curb the desire to punch him further, “You had no right……she is a young girl in my employ and she should be safe…..how dare you assume you can treat anyone in that manner,” he hissed, shaking his head and seeking the eyes of the man across from him with his own terrifyingly stern gaze.

“You’re a single man, Strike……you know what it’s like!” de Cunliffe shrugged and found himself hauled up from his seat with one firm hand of the Colonel’s at his throat.  
“How dare YOU assume that I behave in such a manner!” he spat, Matthew’s eyes appearing frightened as the grip on his throat tightened; Cormoran realised that he was in danger of losing his control, and also that de Cunliffe’s feet were not actually on the floor, and dropped him without ceremony, “I have more respect for women and for myself than to behave in such a manner.”

Matthew rubbed at his throat and paced across the room.  
“What? Are you trying to tell me those stories of you and Lady Charlotte Campbell haven’t got a whiff of truth to them? Come on Colonel……we both know you’ve been there….you know what it’s like to get carried away with passion!” it was as though the man was desperate for a further onslaught from the Colonel’s fists, but the military man retained as much composure as he could.  
“Lady Charlotte Campbell was not a servant; and was not unwilling to my attentions……and furthermore I NEVER allowed myself to become that carried away with her……that is a privilege I shall only allow myself once I have given myself to another in marriage……..you should perhaps be mindful of that given that fact that your intended wife is also beneath this very roof!” and the Colonel poured himself a second glass of whisky, gripping the glass firmly in a further attempt to calm himself.

The door opened a fraction and the Colonel caught the eyes of Shanker, who nodded and retreated, presumably not wishing to spend further time than necessary in the company of de Cunliffe.  
“I’ll have your things sent on…..I would recommend you give careful consideration to the events of this evening……if you breathe a word of this I will ruin you,” the Colonel hissed and shoved the other man roughly ahead of him in a bid to get him out of his property.

They descended the same servants staircase and passed the bloodstained marks on the stone on their way through the boot room towards the small yard.  
Shanker had clearly done as he was bidden and got Alice safely to her room, a small glow of candlelight visible from one of the doors, which was presumably the room she shared with Rose.

“Is she……unharmed?” the Colonel asked pointedly and noticed Shanker’s pained but firm expression and slight nod. The Colonel sighed slightly with relief; an attack of this manner was vile and odious, but at least she had not been raped.  
“I got her warmed up for you! You can take turns finishing her off!” de Cunliffe spat out as he stood near the outer door, grinning and licking his lips in an obscene manner.  
“YOU complete and utter BASTARD!” roared Shanker, and even the Colonel couldn’t hold him back as he launched himself at the man again.

Fear flashed across de Cunliffe’s face again briefly, but he noticed, reached out and picked up the loaded pistol which was kept by the door for emergencies.  
He raised and fired it with his usual lack of precision, the Colonel grappling still to detain his valet felt a sharp heat to his left hand before Shanker shrieked and crumpled onto him.  
Matthew dropped the smoking pistol and clambered to his carriage, a bewildered Stott at the driving seat hastily following the barked instructions of his master to “Get him away from here!.....Quickly!”  
He then rushed into Shanker who was clutching at his left shoulder, blood oozing across his jacket, the fabric clearly torn and smoking from the shot entry wound.  
“I’ll be back Shanker…..staunch it with this,” he passed his valet a sturdy linen towel and hastily made his way through the house as the hooves clattered into the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, I can't believe I stopped the chapter there either.....but I did!  
> Feel free to add your own 'Eastenders' duffduff sound effect!


	31. I need your help.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, so basically THIS is the chapter I had in my head when I started this epic! We have more than a nod to Jane Eyre and the Musketeers going on; a bit of shirtless action and Shanker whump!  
> We also have THE handshake kiss in a fashion!  
> Oh....plus a delightful homage to the wonderful Michael Praed as Robin of Sherwood.....*sigh

He knew that the noise would have woken the house; he had to minimise the scandal and settle things quickly.  
By the time he reached the first floor landing he had wrapped his nightshirt cuff around his left hand to staunch the blood, although it was seeping through the fabric he noticed.  
All of the guests were out on the landing, candles clutched in the hands of Mr Armitage, Nicholas Herbert and Martin Ellacott; everyone in their nightclothes, and the Colonel couldn’t help himself gasping at the sight of Venetia with her hair down, tousled and wild against her shoulders; an expanse of her creamy flesh exposed by the width of the neck of her nightgown.

“I am so sorry to have woken you all…..a minor disturbance downstairs,” the Colonel tried to make his voice calm and casual in tone.  
“Was that a gun shot?” Nicholas’s voice asked.  
The Colonel nodded and glanced between the alarmed eyes of the assembly, “Yes! One of the servants thought he saw a thief stealing from the game room and heading off into the woods so he fired a shot….but on further investigation it was nothing. I suggest everyone goes back to their rooms and I will settle the staff downstairs who are rather startled, naturally.”

Venetia regarded the Colonel, his appearance was altogether ruffled and informal….although she considered that she herself was dressed only in a flimsy nightgown! He looked like he was trying to maintain an aura of calm, but he was also wincing and she noticed his left hand was gripping the cuff of his dressing gown sleeve tightly.  
“Colonel Strike…..I’m not sure I shall be able to sleep after such an interruption,” Lady Sarah Shadlock announced, her hair fastened in curling rags bouncing as she spoke.  
Martin Ellacott had noted the absence of Matthew de Cunliffe on the landing, and had sworn he had heard a carriage before he had encountered the other guests.  
“Come, Lady Sarah……allow me to accompany you back to your room and assure that all is well and perfectly safe,” the Colonel offered his right hand to her and urged her to walk with him.

This act was the one which made Venetia aware that all was NOT well – there was no way that the Colonel would under normal circumstances offer to accompany her in such a manner…..her behaviour towards him meant that he always kept distance between them if possible.  
As he passed Venetia his eyes caught hers and he saw a glimmer of….something…..understanding? reassurance? loyalty? He wasn’t sure, but his actions had the desired effect and the guests drifted to their rooms.  
When he returned, having seen Lady Sarah to her room and no further, he found the hallway empty and reassuring creaks signified that people were resuming their slumbers.  
He raced, as fast as his leg would permit him down the staircase and to where Shanker was propped up having made his way to the servant’s staircase; an alarmed and tearful Alice and Rose beside him.  
“Rose, Alice…..I need you to go back to your room, and sleep. I will resolve this…..Mr de Cunliffe will NOT come anywhere near this house again….I assure you….you are both safe,” he stated in a voice which was so reassuring, masculine and commanding that the two young servants instantly obeyed, seeing him hoist his valet across his back and carry him up the stairs as they left.

He knew that he needed to get him to a place where he could investigate the wound – Shanker’s own room was up in the eaves, so his own bedchamber was a closer solution; plus he had his roll of medical equipment from the army tucked in a drawer.  
He moved as quietly as possible, checking each corridor and staircase was clear before advancing.  
Shanker had the sense to curtail his cries, Strike could tell he was gritting his teeth to prevent him making a noise, and he was again grateful for the man’s sense.

Cormoran placed his valet down on his rumpled bed, the sheets and covers still thrown back from his hasty exit and ripped at the man’s clothes to assess the wound.  
“It’s not bad, Sir……what about you? Got you on your ‘and?” Shanker’s consideration for his master’s welfare was typical despite clearly being in agony himself.

The Colonel could clearly see the shot had lodged in Shanker’s shoulder, but he could feel where it was with his finger tip and would be able to remove it, but he would need help.  
“Wait here,” he instructed, and Shanker knew better than to disobey the Colonel’s orders.  
He sat meekly as the Colonel fastened his dressing gown properly and took a candle out of his room.

He made his way to Miss Ellacott’s chamber – why he sought her assistance rather than her brother's he didn’t know – it was just something about the look she had cast him on the landing; she clearly knew the story was just that....a story; and that all was not well.

He knocked softly on the wood panelled door and heard an immediate soft thud behind it.  
Moments later the door opened fractionally and Venetia stood there with a lit candle, as if she had been waiting.

“I need your help,” he stated in hushed tones and saw her immediate nod as she crept from her room, closed the door silently and followed him unquestioningly.

She had assumed they would go to the servants quarters and was mildly shocked as he led her into what was clearly his own room where her attention was instantly taken by the blood stained and slumped body of Shanker across his master’s bed.

“I didn’t ask……do you faint at the sight of blood?” the Colonel queried.  
Venetia swallowed and pursed her gaping lips, “I don’t think so. What do you need me to do?” she asked as he removed his dressing gown, tossing it to one side of the floor and reached into a drawer for a buff coloured, canvas bundle.  
He unfasted the ties on it and spread out the contents on his dressing table, moving the hairbrushes and other items aside brusquely.  
Venetia lifted her candle and saw a variety of metallic instruments contained within the canvas and watched as the Colonel rolled the sleeves of his own blood stained shirt, wincing and sucking in breath through his teeth as he caught the nick to his left hand.

“You’re injured!” Venetia stammered, wide eyed and still concerned about what the Colonel would expect her to do in his room with medical implements.  
The Colonel, who had been pouring water from his wash stand into a bowl and bringing it across to the bed paused momentarily as he seemed to see her properly for the first time.  
His eyes softened from their fixed focus and he panted slightly through his parted lips.  
“It is just a flesh wound……I promise you it will heal….they often produce more blood than is warranted by the actual cut,” and he gave a whispered instruction to his valet, who obediently gritted his teeth whilst the larger man yanked and tore his shirt from his back.

“Beg your pardon, Madam,” Shanker hissed as most of his arm and swarthy chest was laid bare to her gaze.

“Miss Ellacott, I shall need you to hold a candle steady for me and where I direct it so that I can remove the shot and stitch him up. Do you think you could do that for me?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers in an almost unspoken reassurance, that he felt yes, she could do this perfectly well.  
She nodded and moved across to where he instructed, which was incredibly close beside him next to the bed.

He placed his hand over hers on the candle and directed the flame until he was happy with the position, “Like this, when I tell you….and try to keep it still,” he instructed, breathing sharply at the knowledge that she was standing so close to him that he could smell the intoxicating perfume of her hair, and from his position had a clearly uninterrupted view down the neckline of her wide necked, ruched nightgown revealing the ample curve of her breasts.  
God, the fabric was so sheer, he could almost see……he couldn’t think of that now.  
He took a deep breath and asked her to step back for a moment, which she dutifully did.  
He seemed in complete control of the situation and it was a mixture of powerfully erotic and terrifying……she liked the feeling a great deal.

“Shanker?” he stated abruptly and as the man glanced up at him the Colonel delivered a brutally powerful punch to the man’s jaw, making him collapse onto the bed; Venetia jump and gasp; and the Colonel to shake his right hand and hiss.  
“Trust me…..I have learned from experience; with Shanker…..this way is……safer,” and he pulled back one of the man’s eyelids to find a lolling eyeball beneath.

The Colonel hastily pulled the man into a more comfortable position and urged Venetia to lift the candle as he’d instructed. She did so and received a satisfied grunt from the muscular man beside her, although he repositioned her hand once more a fraction before picking up a small blade and bending to grimace and lever the ball of lead from where it was lodged in his valet’s shoulder bone.

“This will make a slightly vulgar noise,” he whispered, panting and inhaling across his teeth as he applied pressure to the blade.  
Venetia made a slight sob and curled her lips inwards as the metal twisted and scratched against bone, but the Colonel was efficient and retrieved the spherical shot quickly, dropping it with a ‘plink’ into the china bowl beside him.

“I need to wash the wound and then stitch it,” he narrated as he took a wash cloth and squeezed water into the gaping wound.  
It instantly turned a deep red colour, and he dabbed at it, repeating the action several times; bloodied water flooding across his own sheets and mattress in the process.

Eventually even Venetia could see that the water was less darkly coloured, and he seemed satisfied. “Could you press this, here….like this?” he asked, placing a clean cloth to the open wound, inviting her hand to replace his own and covering it briefly to demonstrate the pressure he required.  
He turned his attention to the roll of canvas again and removed a needle; much as one would use for tapestry work, Venetia thought, and began to thread it with some form of silky thread.

Venetia took the opportunity of staring at him as his attention was focussed on the needle.  
There was a sheen of sweat across his forehead, his nightshirt hung low across him displaying an alarming amount of his muscular chest and swirls of dark hair, and she could see him breathing deeply and evenly as he tried to calmly thread the needle again.  
The sleeves of his shirt were rolled to reveal his darkly haired and powerful forearms and glancing down she could see that he his lower half was clad only in cream, linen breeches, which she knew to be the braies her brothers wore beneath their outer garments.  
She glanced down and saw for the first time that his feet were bare and she could clearly see the extent of the injuries which caused his limping gait.  
His left calf was covered with dark hairs and was incredibly masculine and muscular looking, as was the large, strong looking foot attached to it; his right however was devoid of the dark hairs, the skin a gnarled and shiny collection of scars and lumps, the width and muscle tone the antithesis of the other, as if some of the muscles had been physically cut away from it to enable it to heal.

She stared for longer than she should….but it was not a revolting sight….just unfamiliar and intriguing.

Dragging her gaze back up his body he had evidently threaded the needle to his satisfaction and was bending to consider how best to stitch the various ragged pieces of skin.  
“You can remove your hand now,” he instructed calmly, and pulled away the cloth in order to start catching the skin together.  
His expression she noticed was a picture of focussed concentration, his eyes scanning and moving quickly inside his rigidly still face.  
“Could you angle it lower….the candle, please,” he asked, and Venetia bent slightly further over, almost resting her body across his back in order to dip the candle flame to where he desired.  
She felt a slight hitch to his breathing as her breasts pressed against his shoulder, and he swallowed before stretching and twisting his neck slightly and focussing again on the task.

Venetia could see his work progressing and before long he had brought the skin edges together to seal the wound into an unattractive, but practical manner.  
He cleared his throat, “Miss Ellacott, you may step back a little now…I need to get a clean cloth to cover it,” and he remained in his position as Venetia pushed herself back, using her palm against his firm arm to do so.

Sniffing and wiping his bloodied hands across his face to remove the sweat he could feel trickling down his brow, he collected a further cloth; possibly a handkerchief Venetia thought; and pressed it to the wound and secured it with a bandage from the canvas bag, criss-crossing it around the still unconscious man’s shoulder and upper arm.

He finally turned his attention to his own wounded hand, washed it, gave it a quick assessment and clasped his already blood stained nightshirt to it several times until the bleeding lessened and he placed a further handkerchief across it, holding it with his curled fingers in a fist.

Venetia was still rigidly holding the candle, which had almost burned out and was gazing at the Colonel with a mixture of adoration and shock.  
He glanced down at his appearance, he was covered in blood and assumed the sight was making Miss Ellacott uneasy, maybe even faint….little did he know that her thoughts were more pleasurably occupied focussing on the small, burgundy nipple which had been exposed amidst the swathes of dark hair on his chest as he’d tried to staunch the blood on his hand and dragged the neckline of his nightshirt lower!

“Forgive me,” he stated, huskily before turning away from her and pulling the shirt from his back, revealing his broad, unmistakably masculine naked shoulders, tapering to the slenderness of his waist.  
His skin portrayed the scars of several wounds, a couple long and straight from blades and one at his side similar to the shape she’d seen him create with Shanker’s stitches.  
She thought it the most beautiful sight she had ever seen, but couldn’t gaze on it for long as the Colonel pulled a replacement shirt from a drawer, still facing away from her and hastily covered himself.

He had acted instinctively, feeling that the sight of his bare skin for a fraction of a moment would be less vulgar and unseemly than her having to face his bloodstained clothing any further.

He turned to face her once more, a sheepish smile on his lips, “I fear house parties in the future may seem rather dull by comparison!” he purred, resting his buttocks against the edge of his dressing table and regarding her appearance from his position. His fingers toyed with the small gold stud he had worn earlier which was still lying on the wooden surface and had been shoved aside.  
Venetia couldn’t prevent the slightly relieved smile which broke across her face, nor the blush to her cheeks as she felt his gaze travelling quickly across her body.  
She shivered visibly and looked at the stud between his capable and dexterous fingers, she’d noticed it earlier in his tie.

“It’s a bird isn’t it?” she stated.  
He nodded minimally, picking it up and holding to his eyeline, “Yes….it caught my eye and I had to have it,” he almost snarled, his voice heavy with desire as his eyes flicked from the shining jewel to Venetia.

“You should go back to your room and try to get some sleep….I’ve disturbed you long enough,” he added, sighing slightly and gathering his dressing gown from the floor where he had thrown it.  
He came towards her; purposefully and with alluring intent, and draped the heavy garment around her shoulders. He then took the candle from her hand.  
She was aware of his masculine scent and the warmth he exuded as he reached around her, and the fact that if she tilted her head back he would be tantalisingly close to her lips.

She began to move away from him, the long robe sweeping the ground on her shorter frame.  
“So you are leaving me then?” he stated in an almost whisper.  
“It wouldn’t be very proper for anyone to find us like this,” she smiled.  
He nodded and inhaled deeply, “I don’t know how to thank you for your help…” his voice trailed off and he twitched the hand which was not holding the candle.  
“You can shake my hand and say, thank you kindly, Madam,” Venetia stated, holding out her right hand in an amusingly formal and masculine manner.  
The Colonel stifled a chuckle and reached out to complete the formal action, adding a “Thank you, Miss Ellacott,” as they shook hands.  
Before releasing her hand however, he twisted it around and pressed a kiss to the back of it; his eyes never leaving hers.  
It was completed in such a different manner to his usual curt and polite greetings, his lips moved against the softness of her skin and she could feel the warmth and slight moisture from them as he relinquished her hand after the extended attention to it.

Venetia made a slight whimpering sound in her throat and somehow made her feet move towards the door, following the Colonel with the candle, although it was starting to grow light by now.

He silently escorted her to her room door and upon reaching it found her lit by the rising sun behind her, the thin fabric of her nightgown being rendered ghostly sheer. Her honey-gold hair caught the sun and created an almost halo effect around her face. He reached out and couldn’t stop himself pushing a strand of her tousled hair from her cheek.  
“You are like a May morning,” he whispered before he handed her the candle, turned and walked quietly back to his room.


	32. I WOULD!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, the morning after and I am not dwelling too much on Matthew now - he's gone, and that is all we need to know!  
> I have been heavily inspired by one of my costume faves, A Room with a View, for the hay field part, but there is also a bit of the wonderful argument scene in Pride and Prejudice - the Keira Knightley one in particular.....and I've added rain too....cos why not!

Cormoran left Shanker resting, but having regained consciousness, in his own bed as he dressed and went down to see to his guests and hopefully cover up the issues from the early hours of the morning. He had stolen a few hours sleep in the winged chair of his dressing room, his feet perched on the stool.

He planned to get everyone to accompany him in carriages to the views they had discussed the previous evening; it would give the staff some time to get the house back in order, and get rid of Matthew de Cunliffe’s belongings.

The sky looked a little dark and cloudy, but it was still warm for the time of year.

Phillips Armitage was already eating breakfast when the Colonel joined him; he was still planning of leaving early, but asked for reassurance that the Colonel did not require his assistance before he took his leave and left.  
Mr and Mrs Herbert appeared next with Venetia and her brother joining the depleted group; Lady Sarah Shadlock having requested taking breakfast in her room, suffering from a headache brought on by the stress of the evening - not the copious amount of alcohol she had consumed thought everyone seated!

“Mr de Cunliffe not joining us?” Martin Ellacott asked, noting that no further place settings were available at the table.  
Colonel Strike adopted a rather brisk and businesslike tone, “No….he was unexpectedly called away I’m afraid. He’s gone,” he stated, sweeping his gaze across Venetia’s face as he spoke the final statement.  
“Ah well, that will make the carriages more comfortable for our outing. Shall you join us Miss Ellacott?” Nicholas Herbert asked.  
“We’ll both join you! “ Martin stated, helping himself to the sideboard and piling kidneys and eggs onto his plate, a sudden lightness to his demeanour.  
“Yes, but who has to accompany Lady Shadlock?” Nicholas muttered aloud, catching the amused glances of his fellow diners, “Did I say that out loud?” he winced.  
His wife’s giggles erupted first, followed by Venetia’s then the men joined in.  
The Colonel rolling his eyes good naturedly as Martin quipped the comment that Lady Sarah would no doubt manage to wrangle her way beside him no matter what the plan.

There was a pleasant atmosphere around the table, and Venetia looked happy – her brother noticed…..she was happy without de Cunliffe……hopefully she realised it too.  
But there was still the issue of what to do about their engagement!

 

The group assembled a short while later and Hatherill shared the news that Lady Sarah Shadlock had decided to return to Scotland having discovered that Mr de Cunliffe had already departed. Hatherill added that he had taken the liberty of offering her the use of the Colonels' second carriage in order to ease her departure.  
The Colonel flashed his butler a rueful smirk, very much relieved that the man had acted in the way he had to hasten the vile woman away.

And so Martin Ellacott and Colonel Strike shared a carriage and Mr and Mrs Herbert accompanied Venetia in the second.  
They took a sedate pace, the sky still seemed grey, with storm clouds threatening, as if some meteoric event was about to happen to clear the air.

In the lead carriage Martin cleared his throat and addressed the Colonel,  
“So……you’re in love with my sister then?”  
Colonel Strike did not make eye contact with the other man, but slumped slightly in his seat before responding.  
“I think your sister is the most wonderful young lady I have ever met….but she’s already engaged.”  
“That doesn’t actually answer my question….but I’m going with a yes,” Martin continued. “The man is vile and if he marries her I will hold you personally responsible……so get yourself to my father and ask for her…..de Cunliffe’s hasn’t yet!”  
Colonel Strike finally shifted in the carriage and looked at Martin Ellacott.  
“You mean he hasn’t given his blessing? He…..he doesn’t want her to marry Mr de Cunliffe?......and you think he’d accept me? A bastard? For his only daughter?”  
Martin sniffed and replied brusquely but with an amused tone, “Compared to Matthew de Cunliffe you’re a catch!” and arched his brows at the Colonel's open mouthed face of incredulousness.

 

They reached the first of what was indeed an outstanding view, a glorious vista which was only enhanced by the slightly swirling, dark skies.  
Everyone got down and wandered into the lush fields of wheat clinging to the hillside, admiring the vista.  
Nicholas and Ilsa were scanning the horizon pointing out features they could make out in distant Harrogate and Leeds.  
Martin accompanied Venetia and the Colonel towards what he stated was the most stunning landscape view on a clear day.  
They strolled, the Colonel limping slightly on the uneven ground, but feeling somehow light in his step due to the conversation with Martin.

“You’ll excuse me……I need to find an obliging tree,” Martin stated, causing Venetia to giggle and blush.  
As he walked away he caught the Colonel’s eye and winked, this time causing a blush to appear at Cormoran’s cheeks.

Venetia had taken several strides into the field of almost waist high wheat, stroking her fingertips against the swaying stalks, her hair visible beneath her bonnet the exact colour of the grain she was standing in.

“Why are you throwing your life away on Mr de Cunliffe?” the Colonel asked, his right knee slightly bent with his foot resting on a large boulder, keeping his gaze firmly on the horizon and toying with a wheat stalk rather than focus on Venetia’s pert features.  
“And why do you assume that is what I am doing?” she asked, quite abruptly. He didn’t need to turn to know that her chin would be jutting out along with her full, lower lip.  
He shrugged slightly, “Because he wants to trap you in a cage and show you off like a pet rather than allow you to be free.”  
Venetia gasped, incredulous at his comments, “ALL men want to trap women in cages!” she shouted, “What makes you think that Matthew de Cunliffe is any different to any other. When I marry; whoever I marry; can control me….it is the law….and I have very little choice in the matter, Sir!”

He faced her now and saw the determined expression on her face beneath her bonnet, which she was removing and tipping back her neck, face upturned to the sky.  
“Not all men believe that, madam….and you do have a choice…..your choice is to say no!” he was shouting a little now, feeling the frustration of trying to make her see that he was NOT a Matthew de Cunliffe of this world.  
She faced him square on, “Say no?! I HAVE said no….on several previous occasions I have turned down offers, but I’m not a young lady with a title and I’ve done two seasons now….there is only so long that I can risk saying no before the offers no longer come. It’s fine for you gentlemen….you can take your time, amble about breaking hearts before you finally settle on one….it isn’t the same for a woman.”

“So you are telling me that you said yes to de Cunliffe because you feared you would never receive another proposal? So you settled for someone you don’t love and you accuse him of wanting to cage you, when you yourself apparently are prepared to give yourself and be caged!” he was really shouting now, his voice thunderous and rumbling like the distant storm and flashes of lightening visible across the hills if either had dragged their gaze from the other.

“I am no bird Sir….and I will NOT be caged…..” she shouted.  
“You say that, but you are going to be locked away by that unworthy excuse of a gentleman…..he won’t allow you your own thoughts and ideas….he won’t encourage your own opinions….” And he was cut off in his tirade.  
“NO man wants that!….no man will allow me such freedom!…I might as well throw myself at him as another,” she shrieked, her cheeks bright pink and flushed as the first drops of heavy rain began to fall.

They hardly noticed.

“I WOULD!!!!” he shouted, lifting his hands out to her, “I want you to have your own thoughts and views, I want to hear your opinions and ideas when you’re lying in my arms…..I would NEVER cage you, you are a bird who flies free,” he stammered, moving closer to her as the rain began to steadily fall upon them.

They stood panting at each other, rain sliding down their faces.

“But you don’t wish to marry, Sir! You feel a wife is an unnecessary burden in the army,” she spat at him, and he saw the anguish and frustration behind her eyes as well as the crumple of her lips.

“Damn this!” he muttered before taking one final stride and wrapping his arms around her clasping her small, slender body to his with his strong arms and splayed hands.  
One hand captured her small skull and he brought his rain soaked lips to hers, tasting a mixtures of saltiness from tears he hadn’t known she was shedding and the sweet warmth from her lips which moved against his own as if crazed and dreaming.

He eventually released her and steadied her as she wobbled, blinking rain drops from her eyelashes, her lips reddened by their exertion.

“Forgive me……but you make me forget how to think….you make me forget how to behave…..I’m sorry……I’m sorry,” and he strode off in the opposite direction to the carriages, but towards Tabley dragging his splayed hand through his dark, wet curls.

Venetia gathered herself and pressed her fingers to her lips before she heard Martin’s voice calling for her.  
She made her way towards him, the roof of the carriages had been hastily closed, Martin gathered her up and bundled her into theirs querying where the Colonel was.  
“He’s gone home,” she stated, her brother insisting on her stripping off her soggy coat and covering her with his dry one as the carriage started on it’s way towards Keighley, the Herberts’ own carriage veered off towards their home with shouted goodbyes and waves through the windows.

 

The Colonel strode his way across the land around Tabley, the rain ceased as quickly as it had started, and he went into the main house via the cobbled yard and servants’ entrance.

“Sir! I’ll bring hot water straight away,” shouted Barclay as he saw his master’s appearance.  
He knew he could make better time than a carriage if he rode on horseback, “Tell Stott to prepare my horse, and yes..... hot water!” he instructed, taking the stairs two at a time with a wince each time his weight fell to his right foot.

He entered his rooms expecting to still see Shanker in his bed and the blood stained sheets and clothing, but instead the room looked neat and tidy, there was no trace of the events of the previous night.  
He began stripping off his damp clothes, eager to ensure he didn’t catch a chill and began rifling through his wardrobe for breeches.  
Barclay appeared with a jug of water and plenty of towels.  
“Sir, I was told to say that Shanker is feeling unwell and has taken to his room, Rose mentioned it after collecting some bedding, Sir,” and he placed the jug on the stand and started collecting his master’s discarded garments, hanging them to dry them out.  
The Colonel nodded and continued to strip off completely, drying himself on the towels before putting on fresh, dry underwear, shirt and the rest of his military uniform which was the best attire for riding in.

“The guestrooms are being packed and cleaned, Sir,” Barclay continued as he tugged at the Colonel’s scarlet jacket sharply.  
“Good….I shall return later, carry on as normal, Barclay, and make sure Shanker is looked after….is Alice quite well this morning?” he asked.  
Barclay cast a peculiar look at his master, “She seems fine, Sir….although she did comment that she’s not had a very good night’s rest…..Rose did some of her duties to allow her to sleep….is that alright with you Sir?”  
The Colonel nodded, “Perfectly fine, Barclay….I shan’t be back for a full dinner, a tray will suffice this evening….give everyone a bit of rest.”

He swung up onto his horse and urged his black mount into a fast canter across the fields in order to save time and cover the distance towards Keighley as fast as possible.

 

Martin surveyed his sister as she huddled under his coat.  
She looked as though she were replaying a scene in her head and her lips twitched every so often.  
Whenever they did so she emitted a small, soft whimper in her throat but then shook her head and whispered either ‘No!’ or ‘He can’t!’

“Are you well Venetia?” he finally asked.  
She regarded him with tearful eyes, swirling with clarity for the first time in a while, “I don’t love him Martin,” she stated, sniffing and laughing as her brother smiled back at her warmly.  
“Thank the Lord for that!…..now let’s just hope t’other one’s got a bit more about him!” Martin added, wrapping his sister into his arms.  
“Aren’t you angry? Papa will be furious….and Stephen…..I can’t call off an engagement…it’ll be a scandal!” she sniffed, wiping her pretty eyes.  
“We’d have been furious if you’d married that cad! Papa will fix all of this……don’t fret…and stop crying….I can’t bear seeing you cry,” and stroked her still damp hair as he continued to hold her next to him, feeling like his sister was truly beside him again.


	33. I'll walk beside you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it folks.....the happy ending we all hope for!  
> Shout out to Zoesongs for inspiration for Venetia's gown! x  
> Happy Valentine's Day one and all - sorry for the lateness of posting - been manning the discos at school!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed.  
> Thank you, THANK YOU to everyone who has joined in the pure joy of comments - I have never enjoyed writing a fic more and you guys have made it such a fabulous experience - I have adored reading and replying to you - I feel like we made this fic together..........XxX
> 
> SEE NOTES AT END FOR DETAILS OF THE RATHER EXPLICIT FOLLOW UP TO COME!!!

The Colonel rode with his usual mixture of even pace allowing his horse periods of extended reprieve so that he didn’t need to stop, but instead made steady progress towards his destination.  
He reached the house and couldn’t see any sign of the carriage as he clattered up the driveway.  
It was the familiar face of Simms who greeted him and showed him into the house, asking him to wait, giving him an opportunity to check his appearance, straighten his cravat, and rearrange the mass of dark curls on his head into a slightly less unruly array of dark curls with his hand.

“This way, Colonel,” Simms lead him towards a room along a short, bright hallway and ushered him inside.

Michael Ellacott was sitting behind a large desk which was cluttered with a messy range of letters, books, a magnifying glass and several other weird and wonderful objects.  
He stood up as the Colonel approached him, “Now than Colonel, what might you be doing here?” he asked, his eyes twinkling warmly.

“Sir…..I want to talk about your daughter…….I fear she has got herself into a rather tricky situation,” Cormoran stated.

Mr Ellacott gave the younger man a rather stern, narrow eyed glare, “So you mean to tell me you rode all this way to tell me that? Well I’ve known that for weeks….since she agreed to marry that complete rotter de Cunliffe….I was rather hoping you’d come here for a slightly different conversation…..I can fix the whole de Cunliffe thing quite simply…the man never asked my permission and I don’t bladdy well give it….so that’s that!” he eased back in his chair and scrutinised the Colonel. “So, come on man……what exactly do you want to talk to me about?”

The Colonel’s shoulders slumped slightly before he pulled himself back upright in his seat, he opened his mouth to form words several times before he eventually spoke, “I can’t pretend to be anyone I am not….I can’t disguise who my father is, or isn’t however one wishes to look at it….I can only be myself…I’ve only ever tried to satisfy my own standards and do what I believe to be right….and in that vein I’m far from a perfect prospect. But….. I lo….I love your daughter with every fibre of my being and if she’ll have me I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of her……Sir,” he concluded.

Michael Ellacott wanted to leap from his chair and slam his hand down on his desk with delight, but instead he cleared his throat and leaned forwards, steepling his fingers on the cluttered desk.  
“So…..what are you asking me, boy?” he stated, his lips already curling into a smile, which made the Colonel snort slightly with pent up tension.

“Do I have your permission to ask your daughter to consider marrying me?” he panted, “Although based on her reaction to the idea of marriage she shared earlier with me she might turn me down!” he shrugged slightly, a rueful twist to his lips.

“She’d bladdy well better not! Not if I have to go to all the trouble of sorting out this mix up with de Cunliffe!” Mr Ellacott stated.

The moment was broken by the sound of a carriage drawing up outside.  
“I’d say that’s perfect timing, my boy!” Venetia’s father stood up and guided the large man with a kindly arm across his shoulders, “Good Lord, you’re absolutely huge!” he stated absently, “Go into the garden, I’ll send her out….go on.”

The Colonel made his way into the pretty enclosed garden, the scent of stocks and lavender making the air heady.

Martin nodded at his father as he unfolded himself from the carriage, and his father embraced him warmly in a hug.  
Venetia looked sadly at her father, tears welling in her eyes again.  
“Oh Lord! This won’t do….not when I’ve just been talking to the man you’re going to marry….he won’t want you looking like that!” he said to his daughter, guiding her inside. “Why are you all damp? Go on, up and change your frock.”  
“Is Mr de Cunliffe here?” she sniffed, regarding her father’s warm, glittering eyes.  
“Just go and do what you ladies do to look even prettier than you have a right to be…..like I said, the man you’re going to marry is waiting out in the garden for you….we had a very honest discussion….and I approve of him a great deal!” he patted Venetia’s hand and almost pushed her upstairs to her room, ignoring Martin’s confused glances.

 

She regarded herself in the mirror and after a hasty sigh, began to remove the crumpled gown and take out her messed up hair, combing out the tangles before fastening it neatly into a high, bouncing tail on her head, catching some of the ends and pinning them into curls around her face.  
She then selected a patterned day dress, white on the background with embroidered violets scattered across it.  
It had slightly longer sleeves which clasped around her elbows to create a neat puff of fabric and it fastened with a long, trailing purple ribbon at the waist.

The rain had brought a rosy tinge to her cheeks….or perhaps that was caused by the memory of Colonel Strike's lips on hers…..she regarded the sapphire ring on her left hand and removed it…..regardless of what her father thought about him, she would go into that garden and tell Matthew that she couldn’t marry him….and she would give back the ring, and deal with the aftermath….whatever that brought.

She took a deep breath and made her way down the staircase, pausing to find her father, Martin, Stephen and Rowntree lining up at the bottom…..all smiling (Rowntree’s particular method for showing happiness being a wide mouthed drool combined with a vigorous wag of his tail!)  
She hastily wondered who was at the mill if all three Ellacott men were home, but dismissed it as her father ushered her outside.  
The trio of men looked briefly from one to the other before crowding against the window to observe their sister’s moment of privacy!

The sky had cleared to a cool, clear blue, although the sun was starting to set giving a slightly peachy tone to the clouds.  
Venetia wandered along the path and across the lawn, looking around her for signs of Matthew.

The Colonel had been waiting for what felt like an eternity in the garden; he’d found a low bench and was watching house martins swoop for insects in an attempt to quell his emotions.

He heard a twig snap and rose, walking towards where she was standing, dumb founded in the centre of a small square of lawn, surrounded by stocks, sweet peas and roses.  
“You!” she muttered finally as he drew almost within reach of her, “You’re here.”  
He nodded, and looked down into the swirling storm clouds of her eyes with his own smouldering gaze.  
“I love you,” he stated softly, reaching for her hands and stroking his thumbs across her knuckles, feeling them eventually soften and return his touch.

She felt herself melting into the intensity of his eyes boring into her….they seemed to be telling her the answers to all of the burning questions in her mind, but mostly they were telling her how much he loved and adored her.  
“…..but you don’t want a wife,” she stated meekly, her eyes searching the green sincerity of his, seeing the tenderness there.  
He shook his head, “I never wanted a wife to worry over me on a battlefield….but my battlefield days are long gone. I want you….if you’ll have me?” he stated bending his face to gently stroke the tip of his nose across her smooth forehead.

“…….but…….Matthew?” she queried, feeling him shake his head against hers.  
“You father it seems has a different opinion of the way one goes about an engagement…..he will only give permission if he’s first asked by the man in question,” the Colonel smiled his crinkle eyed smile down at her.

“And have you asked permission…..go and do it if you haven’t!” she stammered, turning and pulling on his hand in the direction of the house, as he laughed and stilled her.  
“Asked….and permission whole heartedly granted….it would seem he knows you better than maybe you know yourself,” he whispered, daring to move his hand to gently cup the nape of her neck, making her eyelids flutter and her breathing falter slightly.

He continued the deep, growling manner of speaking, his warm breath against her neck almost making her crumple against him, “My little Robin…..my wild, free bird…..will you marry me?”  
Venetia pulled back from him, her eyes shining with unshed tears of joy, “If there was ever anyone who could lead me and I would willingly follow it is you, Sir.”  
He exhaled with emotion, “Say it….please, say, Cormoran….use my name….Cormoran I will marry you.”  
She smiled and met his beautiful eyes, so full of love, “I will marry you Cormoran….whatever I am, I give to you ….because I know that you shall never ask me to be anything other than who I am.”

 

Inside the Ellacott house four pairs of male eyes were still eagerly trained on the garden – albeit Rowntree’s could easily have been swayed into distraction by a passing butterfly.  
“What ever is going on?” came the stern but ever loving voice of Mrs Ellacott who approached the 3 pairs of familiar buttocks as they knelt on the bench seat  
“SSSshhhh!” – 3 heads turned and issued the order, but did a slight double take as they realised the issuer.  
“Sorry Mother.” “Sorry Dearest.” “I think she said yes!”  
Five pairs of interested eyes resumed their focus and gasped or grunted based on what happened next.

 

The Colonel’s eyes flicked between Venetia’s own and her lips, and eventually he pressed his mouth to hers, softer and with more tenderness than he had done in the rain soaked field. But it was nonetheless filled with his passion and desire for her.  
The warmth of his lips slanting across hers gave way to a delicious sweetness as he parted her lips with the pressure of his own and grazed his tongue against hers, eliciting a small groan of need from him and causing Venetia’s arms to finally splay against the broad expanse of his firm chest.  
They kissed for a long time, neither feeling able to break the moment for fear of waking from the magical dream.

Eventually their lips parted, but they maintained body contact, his arms clasped around her waist, resting in the gentle curve of her back, hers still resting against his chest, her fingertips toying with the soft fabric of his cravat.  
“You are quite right, my darling Venetia. I shall never ask you to be anything other than you wish to be….I meant what I said; I want you to have your own thoughts and feelings and to share them with me….and I shall never, never lead you anywhere you do not choose to go yourself,” he kissed her tenderly again. “Do you doubt it?”  
She nestled closer against his chest, sliding her small hands around the firmness of his waist to press against his shoulders. “I’ll never doubt it…..” she murmured.

“Shall we go back inside and tell your family?” he murmured, his lips and nose nuzzling into the soft gold of her hair.  
She made a delicious whimpering sound as she inhaled the intoxicating sandalwood aroma of him and felt the rumble of his voice reverberate through his chest into her.  
“I want to walk in the garden for a while,” she smiled up into the Colonel’s blissfully happy face.

He dipped his lips to press a tiny kiss to the tip of her nose and slipped her hand through his arm, covering it with his own warm hand, and stated warmly with a crinkle eyed smile, “I’ll walk beside you.”

THE END..........XxX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....and the whole thing fades out to the glorious music from Emma Thompson's Sense and Sensibility with Venetia and her Colonel walking in the garden, Rowntree leaping, barking and chasing his tale and the rest of 'Clan Ellacott' embracing and whooping through the window!
> 
> OK....SO I NOW HAVE 80000 WORDS WORTH OF PENT UP SMUT WAITING TO OOZE OUT ON THEIR WEDDING NIGHT.  
> I DO NOT WANT TO SULLY THIS 'M' RATED BIT OF FLUFF SO I SHALL BE STARTING A NEW FIC - VERY SHORT, NOT A SLOW BURNER LIKE THIS ONE, AND IT WILL BE 'E' RATED AND CALLED - READER, I MARRIED HIM.  
> IT WILL BE VERY EXPLICIT, BUT IT BRINGS VENETIA AND THE COLONEL'S STORY TO A CLOSE RATHER NICELY.


End file.
